Safe and Sound
by Heaven Born Captain
Summary: When tragedy strikes the budding friendship of Ziva and Emily, how will the two react, not just as federal agents but as women? And what situation will this create for their tightknit family? Third in my NCIS/CM series. Please read Secrets Revealed first.
1. Chapter 1

This is the third story of a series. You will need to read the first two to understand what is really happening in this one-- trust me.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters, locations or plots from either NCIS or Criminal Minds. I have the utmost respect for the writers, directors and producers of both and do not intend to infringe any copyright laws. I am not making a profit from this story and am writing it for my enjoyment and the enjoyment of others.

* * *

**Chapter One**

"_All the management of our live depends on the senses, and since that of sight is the most comprehensive and noblest of these, there is no doubt that the inventions which serve to augment its power are among the most useful there can be."  
-Renè Descartes._

_---_

On an island with sandy white shores and crystal clear beaches Ziva David couldn't feel more relaxed, even managing to ignore the tinge she'd recently developed. It was one of those not-so good feelings that she hadn't had for more than a year, but the beautiful scenery of the Isle of Pines in New Caledonia that surrounded her was definitely helping her unwind. Grasping the expensive midday cup of coffee in front of her, she laughed as she watched her new husband make a fool of himself from a distance.

Ziva was about to retrieve the book she was reading from her handbag when her phone buzzed on the table. Abandoning the pleasure of reading, she picked up the phone and answered it.

"Now, I know I said that I wasn't gonna call you again on your honeymoon, but this is important," came the voice on the phone. It was her best friend, Supervisory Special Agent Emily Prentiss, from the FBI's Behavioural Analysis Unit. They'd been close friends, sisters in almost every sense of the word, for nearly four years and she was, at present, still very seriously dating Ziva's twenty-nine year old brother Kalev. Together they raised his four-year old daughter, Kiara, in the condo across from that of Ziva, Tony and their three-year old son, Anthony.

"Well, you're not interrupting anything at the moment," Ziva commented back. "I finally managed to drag Tony out of the hotel room for some sun and you would not believe what he is doing now."

"What is he doing?" Emily asked anxiously and immediately.

"He has gotten into a makeshift pot over a wooden fire with some locals carrying spears."

"Of course. That's what all the normal American frat boys do on their honeymoon."

Ziva snorted into her coffee, earning her a few strange looks from other customers at the small beachside cafe. "Well, it is very hot here. What is everything like on your side of the world?"

"The weather isn't bad, definitely much warmer than in Washington," Emily answered. "I'm just doing a little bit of grocery shopping. Can you believe that the embassy ran out of milk?"

"Wait, you're not at the embassy right now?!" Ziva ejected, alarmed and concerned at the same time.

Emily quickly picked up on the change of tone and tried to say something to calm her down. "Relax, Ziva. I caught a cab to the grocery store. It was five minutes away."

"Why did you not ask someone from the embassy to do it or at least drive you?"

"They were busy. I am perfectly capable of doing a little bit of shopping."

"Is Kalev there with you?"

"No, he's improving the working relationship with his contact here over breakfast," Emily responded. "But enough about me. How's the honeymoon going?"

"For the past week, Tony has used the excuse that it's too hot to wear clothing and has generally gone without," Ziva answered, a smile gripping her face at the thought.

"I'm sure he did. Are you going to tell me about it?" A pause came over the phone and Emily sensed that she wasn't, so she changed the subject. "Well, I spoke to Marcel earlier and Kiara and Anthony are fine. They enjoyed pre-school today... uh, yesterday? Well, today on their time and yesterday on ours."

"Right..." Ziva said unsurely, but Emily cut her off excitedly.

"Oh, we need to look at getting them into private schools. I mean, Kiara's already four and Anthony's not far behind. I'm meeting with the headmaster of a Washington private school after you back. Would you like to come with?"

"Private school, Em? And already?"

"You may not be planning ahead, Ziva, but I most certainly am. You know, when it comes to planning anything, I'm always the one doing the planning."

"Okay, okay, Aunty Emily," Ziva conceded, but had an inkling that something felt out of place. "I guess that you need to think about what is best for Kiara."

"Not just Kiara," Emily muttered back.

But Ziva misconstrued the meaning. "Sorry?" She paused for a moment, but when she didn't get an answer, or clarification, she continued. "Well, what brought this on? You were not this concerned before I left. Why now?"

She heard Emily suck in a breath before continuing. "I'm pregnant."

Ziva's eyes widened in shock but she quickly recovered. "That is wonderful news, Emily. You must be so happy." And Ziva knew that she would be. Ever since Anthony was born, even before that really, she knew that the maternal side of her best friend was in full gear. And she knew that Emily wanted a child. She had Kiara, that was true, but it was not the same. Emily had often spoken to her about going through the waves of pregnancy, the emotions of giving birth to her own child. The news of her pregnancy meant more for Emily than Ziva could ever fathom.

"I am. Really I am," Emily answered and sounding it. "But don't tell Kalev yet. I want to tell him when we get back to Washington. We fly out tomorrow."

"When did you find out?"

"Early this morning. I met with the doctor here at the embassy the other day and he got the results from my blood work back this morning. I was so excited. I still am. Actually, I think I'm more excited."

"You have every right to be," Ziva replied with a smile.

"Well, it was hard when my closest friends were having children and I wasn't. You, JJ and Jenny... And now me!" she yelped happily.

"And now you," Ziva repeated, her face still showing the happy smile. There was a short pause where neither woman knew what to say to each other, so Ziva changed the subject. "Oh, by the way," Ziva continued, having just remembered why her friend was in another country to begin with. "Did you find out the necessary information for your mother?"

"Ha, the lashkar leader certainly wasn't happy about having to deal with me or my mother," Emily smirked. "But none of us could pick up any red flags on any of them and they are working very hard to keep the Taliban out of their region. Counterterrorism operations are a little different here, but I suppose you knew that already."

"Yes, I do. Did Kalev go with you to the meet?"

"No, I didn't think that it was safe for him. You know that if they discovered that he's Israeli or even Jewish..." Her voice trailed off, but they both knew the implications of it. "He was worried about me. Kept thinking I was meeting with a group of Jihadi's, but I was fine. After all, I was stuck with all the other agents from the FBI, DSS, CIA, ISI and the rest of the alphabet. We were more likely to kill each other by the end of the op then to be shot dead by the Taliban."

"Well, I, for one, am very glad that it worked out flawlessly," Ziva commented.

"So am I," Emily agreed. "Well, anyway, I'm gonna head back to the embassy now and let you continue with your fabulous holiday. I'll talk you when you get home on Friday."

"Yes, I will see you at the airport," Ziva answered. "You take care of my niece or nephew there."

Emily laughed and hung up first. Ziva closed her phone, still smiling as she tried to locate Tony. And she did find him. In the centre of a large group of males, mainly Australian tourists, contesting each other for who could chug the most beer in a minute. Ziva rolled her eyes and ignored them, going back to her book. She was reading for less than a minute when she smelt the strong scent of beer approach from behind her. Smiling she leant back into Tony's grip as he threw his around the chair and around her waist, kissing her neck softly at the same time. The Australians back at the bar cheered and hooted when he scooped her up out of the chair. She decided to let him, though the gesture would be more romantic if he hadn't winked at the other men he'd just befriended, saluting them and crying, "Farewell, my Aussie friends!"

Seven thousand miles away in Islamabad, Pakistan, Emily was walking back out to the street to hail a cab back to the embassy where her mother had been recently posted as the Ambassador for the United States. The paper bag of groceries was bundled in her arms as she took a step towards the street. A cab stopped for her almost immediately and she hopped into the back.

"The US embassy, please," Emily told the driver in English.

He turned around smiled at her and then, quite unexpectedly, another man climbed into the back of the car on the other side. Shock overcame her and before she could react, the second man leaned forward with a cloth and held it over her mouth. Her body was paralysed and fear enveloped her as the darkness finally engulfed her mind. She collapsed forward against the front seat as the driver quickly sped away from the scene.

---

"_I've got this feeling that there's something that I missed."_

_

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**Author's Notes: **So there's a line from a song at the end of each chapter. I'll leave it to you to discover what the song is, but it's definitely one of my absolute favourites and depicts the mood of this story very well. For those of you interested, I have every intention to complete Cryptocracy, but I am taking a break. I do not think that I will be finishing To The Ends Of The Earth and for that, I apologise. I do hope, however, that you all enjoy this story. This series of three fics (so far) is really my pet project for my fanfics and it seems that all other stories have been taking a back seat-- sorry! But I have multiple chapters already written and I know exactly where this is going so it will definitely be finished, and within a few months too. Please enjoy and drop me a line throughout the story. Many of you who are writers know just how much effort goes into making a story, so please, tell me what you enjoy reading and what you don't. I look to your judgment when I decide what kind of writer I am, so please review.


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks to everyone who reviewed. I hope that you enjoy this chapter.

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

* * *

**Chapter Two**

"_Our most basic instinct is not for survival but for family. Most of us would give our own life for the survival of a family member, yet we lead our daily life too often as if we take our family for granted."  
-Paul Pearshall._

_---_

Glimmers of light from the bulbs outside were flickering through the closed curtains across the naked, splayed bodies of two newlyweds basking in the afterglow of their passionate love-making. They laid, spooning, like that for hours and every so often, Tony would nibble or place feather-light kisses on the soft flesh of his wife's neck or earlobe, using his strong grip and her waist to meld their bodies closer together than they already were.

"What are you thinking about?" Tony whispered softly, sensing Ziva's distance from reality and expressing his concern about it.

"Nothing," Ziva lied in barely more than a whisper, but her tone told Tony more than words ever could.

"You can tell me, Ziva," he pushed, still in a soft and supportive voice. "You can tell me anything. Are you feeling okay?"

"Physically," Ziva answered and rolled over to face him. She put her hands on his cheeks and rested their foreheads together. "It is just a feeling. I'm sure it is nothing. It will pass."

"Why do you feel the need to lie to me? If you're worried, I want you to tell me. Remember what I said when we got married. I want us to share everything. No secrets."

"I know, Tony, but it really is nothing," Ziva maintained. She leant in and placed a soft, lingering kiss on Tony's lips, closing her eyes and enjoying the touch of the familiar territory. Tony, on other hand, smiled into the kiss, wrapping a hand around her waist and brought the other hand up to bush her hair together as he deepened the kiss. His tongue was pushing itself into her mouth, but she did not allow him entrance, flipping her mood to playing hard-to-get.

They broke apart, laughing, and Tony rolled Ziva onto her back as she pulled him on top of her. Her fingers were threading through his soft dark hair as his hands were braced on the mattress. Tony lowered his body and placed a soft kiss on her lips, but did not stop there. His lips trailed down to, and along, her jaw line before moving down her neck. He was moving oh so slowly and Ziva felt an excruciating urge build up in the pit of her stomach. She finally released a loud moan when he made contact with her breast. The following moans, however, were drowned out by the sound of her ringtone.

"Your phone's ringing," Tony told her as he stopped the passionate attacking of her skin. She sighed and rolled over, grabbing her phone off the bedside table. She looked briefly at the caller ID before answering.

"Kalev! You are interrupting sex!" she scolded her younger brother, but upon hearing his voice, her expression change dramatically.

"I can't find Emily," his panicked voice told her.

"What do you mean? Where is she?" Ziva asked, panic rising in her voice. Tony could tell that something was very wrong. His wife was normally very effective at keeping her emotions in check.

"I don't know. She went to the grocery store down the road and didn't come back again. I went there, but she wasn't there and nobody's seen her. I never should have let her go anywhere here by herself!"

"Calm down, Kalev, we will find her. Emily is strong and she can take of herself." As she spoke, Ziva found herself trying to believe the words she was saying as well.

"Are you coming?" Kalev begged. The sound of her younger brother's voice begging her for help almost broke her heart.

"Of course. I will call you soon." And with that she hung up in a rush. Jumping out of the bed, and making Tony jump too, she walked to their wardrobe and pulled out some clothes.

"Emily's missing?" Tony asked worriedly. He walked up behind her and placed his arms around her waist, holding her reassuringly. "We will find her."

Ziva nodded, trying hard to believe him, but she was blinking back tears.

"You go to reception and get us a flight outta here and I'll pack," Tony told her as he grabbed out a pair of underwear, jeans and a short sleeve shirt. Ziva, who'd already speedily dressed, was out the door a few minutes later. She half-ran from their bungalow to the main building at the resort that housed reception.

"Mrs David," the young receptionist said brightly, recognising the face of one of the many honeymooners. "What can I do for you?"

"I just received an urgent message from my brother, and my husband and I must leave immediately," Ziva told her in a rushed voice.

"Is everything okay?" she asked urgently.

Ziva merely glanced back at her and did not directly answer her question. "Can we get a flight out of here tonight?"

"Back to DC?"

"No, Pakistan," Ziva told her.

At first, the receptionist thought that Ziva was being sarcastic, but there was no joking manner in her voice or expression. "Just a moment." And she picked up the phone and made an urgent phone call.

Meanwhile, eight and a half thousand miles away, Gibbs was staring across the bullpen, his eyes flickering from the desks normally inhabited by his senior field agent and Mossad liaison officer. They were currently deserted by the two probationary agents who hadn't arrived for work yet, leaving him and McGee alone in the bullpen with a few other agents around. It was, after all, only seven in the morning.

His eyes flicked up towards the catwalk, where Acting Director Harmon Rabb was strolling from his office and down the stairs. After the Domino incident, Leon Vance had been 'let off,' although a misstatement had been passed around that he retired; the second director to do so in the space of a few months. That notion pushed forth doubts about the ability of the SecNav in the minds of a lot of politicians, including the Secretary of Defense and the Secretary of State. On the recommendation of those politicians, it had been insisted that the SecNav reinstate Jennifer Shepard as the Director of NCIS.

Jenny had, of course, accepted the position, and was looking forward to the prospect of getting back into the swing of things, but had a few requests of the Secretary first. Her reinstatement came the week after she found out she was pregnant with hers and Gibbs' child and she was currently on maternity leave, with only a few weeks left of her pregnancy. The baby was due in the first week of February and she'd been off since Christmas, so the new Assistant Director, ex-JAG Harmon Rabb Jr, had, in effect, been the Acting Director since then, leaving his wife and two children behind in San Diego for a few months.

"Hey, Gibbs. You still here?" Harm called out as he walked into the bullpen and up to the agent's desk. He lowered his voice, indicating to the others in the bullpen that it was to be a private conversation. "Any idea when Jenny is coming back to work? I'm not pushing, but I need to let Mac know. She wants to go back to work full-time but she can't until I get back because of Higen and Masai."

He was referring to their two adopted boys, three-year old Higen from Japan and eight-month old Masai from Kenya. Gibbs smiled back at him, finding that the pair of them actually did work rather well together after getting over their tension from the few years prior. "I wouldn't know. Probably the end of February."

"Okay," Harm answered with a shrug as the phone on Gibbs' desk rang.

"Gibbs." He paused for a long time and Harm guessed it was because the person on the other line was talking. "Okay, I'll see what I can do," Gibbs finally said after about a minute. "I'll call you back in two minutes." And he hung up the phone and looked at Harm.

"What's wrong?" the Acting Director asked. McGee had been listening in since Gibbs answered his phone, but now he walked over to join the conversation.

"Emily Prentiss is missing," Gibbs told them.

"In Pakistan?" McGee shot out and Gibbs nodded.

"That was Hotch. He doesn't know whether she's just missing or has been kidnapped," Gibbs continued.

"Wasn't she meeting with terrorists?" McGee questioned.

"What?!" Harm ejected. His faced moved from understanding to confusion and back again.

"She was a part of a joint-agency anti-terrorism task force working with lashkars in Peshawar and the surrounding province," Gibbs verified. "But according to Hotch, there wasn't a problem with the operation. Kalev called him and said that she went to the grocery store this morning and didn't come home again."

"You should go, Gibbs," Harm told him. "I can't put you on any real cases until you get DiNozzo and David back anyway, not with those two..." He nodded in the direction of the two recently-arrived Probies who hadn't done any work the team in the past week. "Go and help the BAU out on this. And take McGee."

Gibbs nodded to him and dialled the number for the line in the BAU conference room, leaving his phone on speaker. "Hotchner," came the answer.

"McGee and I will be there. Has anyone told Ziva and Tony?"

"Kalev said that he'd spoken to them first,_"_ Hotch answered. "Garcia, can you call Ziva?"

"Dialling her number now," they heard Garcia's voice say.

Gibbs, McGee and Harm could hear the dial tone and then Ziva's voice as she answered.

"David."

"Ziva, where are you now?" Gibbs asked quickly.

"You know about Emily?"

"We do," Hotch's voice answered.

"I am at reception and about to leave," she replied quickly. "Tony and I have a chartered flight to Sydney and then a commercial flight on to Karachi. We still need a flight from there to Islamabad."

"We can take care of that," Hotch told her. "Gibbs, is it just you and McGee?"

"And Abby too," Harm answered for him. Gibbs looked up cautiously at his superior, who merely nodded understandingly back at him.

"Can you get to Dulles in an hour and a half?" Hotch asked. "Our flight to Karachi leaves at ten, which means that we should arrive there at eleven o'clock tomorrow morning. When do you land there, Ziva?"

"0900 in the Pakistani time zone," she answered immediately.

"Wait there for us. I'll have a chartered flight to Islamabad for all of us," Hotch told her.

"Agreed, it is better for us to travel together," Ziva answered. "I have to go. I will see you then." And with that she hung up.

"Is your whole team going?" Gibbs asked the other team leader.

"Ambassador Prentiss convinced the State Department to invite us and Strauss had no choice but to agree," Hotch answered.

"We have to go," Morgan piped up. The BAU team, with the exception of Aaron Hotchner, had been silent since news of Emily's disappearance gripped them. He had finally broken their silence, saying what they were all thinking. "Emily's our family. We can't leave her behind."

"I know," Gibbs told him. "I know. And we _will_ find her."

"I hope so," Hotch finished with before hanging up.

"We will find her," McGee repeated softly.

---

"_I could do almost anything to you."_


	3. Chapter 3

So I'm wondering what happened to all of my avid readers who told me that they couldn't wait for the sequel to be posted. Seriously, where are you?!?!?! Okay, well, if you are reading this story, then please review. I feel lonely. Also, yes I've seen the premiere [it took about 3 hours to come online] and yay!! I won't say anything more in case some of you haven't seen it.

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

* * *

**Chapter Three**

"_My life has been full of terrible misfortunes, most of which never happened."  
-Michel de Montaigne._

_---_

Looking out the window at Kingsford Smith International Airport in Sydney, Ziva quite literally felt like her world was crumbling. Flights had been delayed on account of bad weather and it almost looked cyclonic outside. The thunderstorm that had been gripping the ocean side city was set to continue and Tony and Ziva's flight was due to depart in an hour and a half. Now, they had no idea what time their flight would leave.

"It's pretty hot," Tony announced, walking up behind with the coffee that he bought on his Visa because he couldn't be bothered changing currency. "I went outside to have a look at the storm."

Ziva didn't answer but took the coffee from his hands.

"You okay?" Tony asked softly.

"Fine," she shot back, not even trying to sound it.

"I spoke to the receptionist over there. She said that the storm should pass within the hour and the winds should dissipate. We'll probably only be running a little behind."

Again, Ziva merely nodded and stayed silent. Tony didn't know how to deal, so he let her brood silently.

A few thousand miles away, somewhere over the Pacific Ocean, the BAU and remainder of the NCIS team were captivated in deep discussion over whether or not they could formulate an accurate profile before they landed in Pakistan. Finally, Hotch stood up and yelled over the top of them, attracting many peculiar glances from the other travellers in coach.

"Alright, stop!"

And so they did. An eerie quiet cloaked the cramped four by four cell that they'd been restricted to for the duration of the journey—the area cordoned off to them at the back right corner of the plane due to their late booking. They had only been flying for eight hours—it felt like twenty-four—and with emotions running so dangerously close to the stratosphere, each and every remaining member of the tight-knit NCIS and BAU teams were ready to remove their sidearms and commit themselves to shoot-out at thirty thousand feet.

As they awkwardly shot glances sideways at each other, Rossi, feeling and realising the need for strong leadership, stood up next to Hotch and addressed the hostile agents calmly and constructively. "All of you should get some rest. You may not have another chance over the next few days and there's nothing we can do right now."

Even with the composed words of a wiser man, it did not appear that sleep was a possible or worthy reprieve. Rest... maybe, but not sleep. There was little else to do on the plane but sit there and the overwhelming sense of dread was just that—overwhelming. They landed in Karachi about an hour before Tony and Ziva. Waiting at baggage claim for them only increased the anticipation. Hotch knew that his team, as well as Gibbs', would prefer to be doing almost anything else. Waiting was always the most difficult part and he did not know what they could do once they arrived in Karachi.

They could formulate an accurate profile, of course, and depict the exact nature of Emily's kidnappers to a tee, but then what? Do they search for her in a foreign land where they have no jurisdiction and no authority? What if she'd been taken west of the capital? Hotch knew deep down that she had little chance for survival if that had happened. The place was fast becoming a war zone between Pakistani troops and the Taliban. But perhaps they'd have less of a chance if she'd been taken north to the disputed areas. Not only would they have no jurisdiction, but they have no contacts within the appropriate authority.

It was a bad case all round, but Hotch refused to let Emily go. Her kidnapping made no sense—_yet_—and there was no way he was going to let one of his closest colleagues slip through his fingers. He'd let her go before, deciding that it was the best thing for all of them, and perhaps it was, but he would not let any harm come to her.

After the solemn appearance of the newlyweds, they made their way through customs and met up with two American embassy officials who escorted them to their adjoining chartered flight to Islamabad.

The flight there was just as silent as the previous one, once they'd agreed that no more work could be done without any information to go on. Abby had wanted to ask Ziva about her honeymoon, but she refrained, understanding that she wouldn't want to remember her first vacation with her husband as the one that was cut short because her best friend was kidnapped by terrorists. The honeymoon wasn't even going through Ziva's mind anymore. All that she could think about was what Emily must be going through. The horror, the sheer humiliation and pain. It was something that she lived through. It was something that she never wished on her worse enemies. She felt a light hand on her forearm. A hand that she'd grown familiar with.

"Are you okay?" Tony's voice pierced through her thoughts.

She gave him a weak smile but no answer.

"We'll find Emily, Ziva. Don't ask me how. I just know that we will," he told her. He had told her this many times over the past twenty-four hours. But she didn't believe it. Hope was not in her dogma, not her belief. But perhaps daring to hope was. A new wave of optimism came over her as they touched down in the Pakistani capital of Islamabad. Ready to work, she disembarked first and met her brother at the bottom of the steps.

"Shalom," she said, leaning forward to kiss his cheeks.

"Shalom," he replied, repeating the action.

"Any news?" Hotch asked anxiously as he followed Ziva off the plane. Within half a minute, every other FBI and NCIS agent onboard had followed suit.

"None so far," Kalev answered gravely. His broken spirit was evident in his voice. "Nothing."

His statement was met with no reply. Nothing about the tense silence captivating the teams had changed since they heard the news of Emily's predicament. And it seemed that nothing would change anytime soon. Kalev was unnerved and definitely disappointed with the level of devastation visible in the eyes of his friends. And the information he had to share with them would not change these thoughts.

"The Pakistani government has, naturally, been apprised of the situation." The monotonous statement had surprisingly come from a dark-suited man behind Kalev. He was tall, fair-skinned and light sandy hair, and generally unremarkable in every aspect. In fact, he was so ordinary that none of the agents had given him a second look.

"And you are?" Hotch asked pointedly. JJ, who stood beside him, saw his no-nonsense expression for what it was. It was the same one he'd given the Attorney General when Emily and Reid had been held inside the ranch by Benjamin Cyrus a few years earlier, and the Chicago PD detective, Dennison, when Morgan had been arrested for murder in his hometown of Chicago. She didn't require any extra training in profiling tactics to see that.

"Senior Special Agent Mark Sinclair, DSS," he replied, removing the badge from the inside left pocket of his jacket and flashing it at them before replacing it.

"The Diplomatic Security Service," Gibbs proclaimed, but not at all in a questioning manner. "Of course," he added with a nod after a short pause.

"And I am confident that we will be able to cooperate on this case. After all, DSS and NCIS worked so well together on the bombing of the _USS Cole_, and with the FBI on the arrest of the 1993 World Trade Centre bombing suspect, Ramzi Yousef." He looked from Gibbs to Hotch before adding as an afterthought, "even if the arrest was made by DSS and ISI while the credit went to boys from the J. Edgar Hoover building."

Hotch could see the bait in front of him plainly, but there was no way he'd take it. He simply glared back at the suited man with an unreadable expression on his face.

"As I'm sure you are all aware, DSS does have the lead on any terrorist investigation internationally," Sinclair put in.

"We are," Gibbs commented before Hotch pushed in front of him.

"It is not of our concern. Our only concern is finding Emily Prentiss, Agent Sinclair."

Stares were exchanged, but when the DSS agent could see no way out, he conceded. "Then we should not have a problem, Agent Hotchner."

---

"_Don't you breathe."_


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks to all of you who have been reading and reviewing. I'm glad that some of you are still here for round three. So I have to alert everyone: It seems my fingers have a mind of their own and into this fic, a ship has been written, or at least alluded to, that I didn't quite intend to have. I blame the Criminal Minds premiere for that. Although, it will provide a little more drama for an already dramatic storyline. I hope you enjoy it anyway.

Disclaimer: See Chapter One.

* * *

**Chapter Four**

"_Fear is a darkroom where negatives develop."  
-Usman B. Asif._

_---_

The journey to the embassy was not long and the DSS agents were driving fast. The three unmarked black sedans hastened through the relatively modernised city, but in the distance Ziva could see smoke from recent insurgent attacks. To the west and the east of Islamabad, the Pakistani army were fighting both the Taliban and recent insurgent activity, which had sprung up dangerously in Lahore. As they made it past the French embassy at the entrance to the Diplomatic Enclave, she knew that she was only minutes away from facing Emily's formidable mother once more.

The embassy and its surrounding residences were architecturally beautiful and displayed an aura of wealth and Western culture. They drove past the large pool and saw the tennis courts on the other end of the property. Finally, they arrived at the main building and the cars stopped, allowing them to disembark. Ziva recognised Ambassador Elizabeth Prentiss immediately and found herself shrinking back slightly behind her brother.

"Agent Hotchner, Agent Gibbs," she greeted, only addressing the men in positions of power. "I am so glad that you have come. I can assure you that my office is doing everything humanly possible to find my daughter and they are at your disposal."

"Thank you, Ambassador Prentiss," Hotch replied with dignity. Gibbs nodded but said nothing at all. Jenny had reminded him many times before that shooting politicians, whilst being the effective way to deal with them, was not the most progressive.

"Now Agent Sinclair will show you to where you can set up," she stated forcefully, and then shot a glare at him. "I have spoken to him about how this investigation will be run and informed him that you all will be finding my daughter alive and bringing those responsible to justice."

"Yes, ma'am," Sinclair retorted, cleverly masking his disrespect and discontent with the situation.

"If you will excuse me, I have a meeting with the Foreign Secretary in an hour."

The teams watched peculiarly as Ambassador Prentiss walked away from them, closely followed by a security detail that was almost as thick as the president's.

"Shall we go inside?" Sinclair offered with a slight smirk. He was all but determined to be a perfect host and almost mocked the idea of playing ball with the other agencies. After all, unless national security was seriously at stake, the notion of interagency cooperation was a bad joke cooked up by David Letterman after one too many "late nights."

Nevertheless, the FBI and NCIS agents followed him into the building and then to the large conference room that had formally been used to track the movement of Taliban insurgents from Afghan to Pakistani territory and was now the main base for the investigation into Emily's kidnapping. Ziva counted eight men and three women in the room when she entered, all, like the BAU, dressed in attire that ranged from casual jeans and a t-shirt to a suit and tie.

"A few of these agents were working the counter-insurgency operation with Emily," Sinclair informed them.

"Were you?" Morgan put in.

"No, it was an FBI-run investigation. Agent Thomas," he called out to one agent in jeans, "these are the FBI agents from Emily's team and their friends from NCIS."

The young man looked no older than thirty and he eagerly stepped forward to shake the hands of Hotch, Gibbs and Rossi. "Hiya. Special Agent Jason Thomas at your service. Em was a really cool agent so I'll do whatever I can to help you guys."

Hotch inadvertently chewed on the inside of his lip. This was the lead FBI agent in country?

"Seriously," Thomas ejected enthusiastically, his face looking less and less serious by the second. "I'll do whatever you want."

"Well, you can start by allowing us to sit down and then you telling us everything you know about the operation that Emily Prentiss was working on here in Islamabad," Gibbs told him rather agitatedly.

Thomas nodded nervously in reply and pointed dejectedly towards the table in the centre of the room that seated two other people. The teams wordlessly shuffled around the table and sat down, almost like a family preparing to eat a meal together and each member knew their place. Leaving Hotch at one end of the table, still standing, with Gibbs to his right and Rossi to his left, the discussions began.

One of the female agents down the end spoke up first. "Agent Prentiss went missing at approximately 0830 local time yesterday morning. A few men, including the owner of the grocery store and the fruit vendor across the street, saw her get into a cab. A few moments later, another man got into the same cab. It sped off quickly heading east."

"At first it sounds like a blitz attack," Morgan commented. "The cab driver saw an American, possibly a way to make some money. It seemed like a chance encounter. How else would they know that Emily would be in that store?"

"But it's not a blitz attack," Hotch rebuked pointedly. He'd yet to sit down and was rolling his palms anxiously on the edge of the table. "The cab was waiting for her specifically and a man jumped in with her to ensure that she couldn't escape. It would have to have been timed perfectly to coincide with when she left the grocery store."

"How would they know that she was there and why are they targeting her?" Tony questioned as Ziva shifted awkwardly in her seat next to him.

Hotch sighed and shook his head, then turned to Agent Thomas. "Did Agent Prentiss ever leave the embassy for anything that wasn't related to work? Did she ever go to that store?"

"No, and she wouldn't have gone yesterday either if the embassy staff hadn't been so busy setting up for the dinner last night," Thomas told him with half a shrug. "We don't normally do any grocery shopping."

"Was Emily targeted specifically, though?" Rossi put in.

And with that clear-cut and vital question came Gibbs' ambiguous reply. "So many questions and not nearly enough answers. I suggest that we find some. Crime scene."

"Do you have translators that speak the native language?" Hotch asked in Thomas' general direction.

"Of course, sir. In Urdu and Punjab."

"DiNozzo and Morgan will go with Rossi and Gibbs and a translator to the grocery store and re-canvass it," Hotch ordered in his definitive, authoritative tone. "Ziva, Kalev, I assume that you two have some calls to make. Sift through all the intelligence chatter that will be coming your way and find us a way to track who did this." Seeing the disgruntled looks on their face, he added some compassionate advice. "There is nothing else you can do right now and I don't trust anyone else in this building to get the right information quickly. You can work with Garcia, Abby and McGee in sifting through the information they collect."

"Do we get a Get-Out-Of-Jail-Free card for hacking the CIA's main database?" Abby asked innocently.

"Well, when one of my babies is out there, jail is the last concern on my mind," Garcia commented.

"Anyone else got a problem?" Hotch questioned, looking over the faces of the agents at the table as though he dared one of them to jump up and question his authority. And, when nobody did, he went back to his pre-rehearsed allocution. "JJ, the international press here in Islamabad is going to be all over this. News of her disappearance will have gone global by now and I want you to get a handle on it. Reid, you're with me."

"What are we doing, sir?" the lean and nerdy-looking genius asked politely.

"We're going to handle the politicians."

**oOo**

Out of the many things she did not know about her situation, Emily could discern one thing. She was tied up in the basement of a house or building with no light and was very far away from wherever she'd visited first after her kidnapping. She could remember her binding and gagging in the back of that cab and knew that they had travelled south by the direction of the sun. After they arrived at a house, however, she was blindfolded as well, and thrown into the back of a truck or van or something else large.

A part of Emily had wished that she'd been drugged so that she couldn't remember or feel anything, but after what felt like hours to her in that vehicle, succumbing to the deafening effects of sensory deprivation, she had gone beyond the exasperated stage and was starting to feel just a little crazy.

Then, after what had seemed like an age, two men opened the doors of the car (or truck, she didn't know which) and carried her a few hundred metres and down some stairs. Emily decided not to struggle, knowing that if she did, they would only incapacitate her with the butts of their guns and she would be bloody, bruised and bound instead of just bound.

But now, Emily would have much preferred the torture that the sensory deprivation inflicted on her body and spirit. She was in pain now—every muscle in her body ached and she did not know for how long she would be like this. Her ankles and wrists had been cuffed and then bound together, forcing her into a seated position that bent her back and forced her to lean over her knees. She knew this position well enough, and simply from the gesture of binding her in this manner she could discern the motive behind her kidnapping. Revenge.

---

"_Don't you breathe."_

_

* * *

  
_


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks to everyone who has been reading and reviewing. I hope that you enjoy this chapter.

* * *

**Chapter Five**

"_My actions are my only true belongings. I cannot escape the consequences of my actions. My actions are the ground upon which I stand."  
–Thich Nhat Hanh._

---

"It's busy," Rossi commented as they stepped out of the unmarked black sedan and onto the sidewalk that Emily had walked the previous day.

"At 8.30 in the morning?" Morgan asked of no one person in particular.

"Not really," the translator answered. The American woman was of Indian descent and was fluent in Hindi, Urdu, Punjabi and English. She spoke with the faintest trace of an Indian accent.

"People still must have seen something," Tony put in as he looked around.

"I'm sure that they did, but you will find it difficult to find somebody who will willingly speak with you," she replied.

Morgan, meanwhile, walked towards the grocery store's entrance and then turned to look around, carefully studying and analysing the intricate details of the street's landscape, imagining where Emily would have gone and attempting to retrace her steps in his mind. When he started to move towards the road, the others followed him.

"What are you thinking?" Rossi asked.

"How popular are cabs in this city?" Morgan asked without looking away from the street.

"Very popular," the translator answered quickly. "If you want to get around anywhere here, then a taxi is the way to go."

"So they knew that she would take a taxi," Gibbs concluded, his eyes following Morgan the entire time. "She took a taxi from the embassy since most of the staff were tied up with that dinner."

"Why didn't she drive?" Tony asked, surprised.

"Nowhere to park," Rossi answered, realising the same thing that Morgan had. "And she didn't know the way."

"Then if this was a targeted kidnapping of Emily specifically, there's a good chance that whichever taxi driver brought her here also picked her up," Tony commented.

"Or they followed her from the embassy," Gibbs suggested.

Morgan shook his head slightly in disbelief. "Then they would have had to know that she was leaving the embassy."

"There's a very good chance that what I first suspected is actually the case," Rossi spoke up gravely. His expression gave off the idea that he wasn't very comfortable the thought.

"What's that?" Tony asked.

And it was not Rossi that answered, but Gibbs. "That someone from the embassy alerted them that Emily was leaving."

"There's over a hundred people working at the embassy," Morgan stated plainly. "Do we question them all?"

"Not yet," Gibbs told him firmly. "For all we know, this was still a random kidnapping."

"Which implies a terroristic motive and not anything personal," Rossi pointed out.

Morgan and Gibbs did not answer him, but both nodded in agreement. It was Tony's turn to ask a question. "So if they were just terrorists, then they took her because the situation was advantageous? They saw an American woman and decided to capture her?"

"That's right," Morgan answered resolutely.

"And we don't yet know which?"

"Nope."

"How do we find out?"

"We wait for them to contact us," Rossi said, answering Tony's question.

"They haven't yet and it's been over twenty-four hours," interjected Gibbs in a tone that well defined the grave situation that they were in.

But it was Rossi's assurances that convinced the others that there was still hope. "They will." And in order to break the long pause that ensued after he encouraged them all to have faith, he drew them back to the situation at hand. "So what did happen here yesterday?"

"The grocer said that she left his store and immediately flagged down a taxi," the translator told them.

"The cab just drove by as she came out?" Tony asked.

"Yes."

"Then it's more than likely that the UNSUBs were in that cab," Morgan said conclusively.

"He also said that a man followed her into the cab a few moments later, right?" Rossi asked the translator.

"Yes."

"Then let's go and talk to the grocer," Rossi announced, and the five of them filed into the small convenience store.

They let their translator speak first and introduce them before Rossi took over the interview and acquainted himself with the man, establishing a one-on-one rapport that would make it easier for him to get information. He was fortunate enough that the man did speak some English. "Was anyone else in the store when she was?"

"Yes," he replied surely. "Three other people."

"Did anyone seem slightly anxious or agitated? Did anyone watch her especially?"

The man went to speak and then stopped, as though he was in deep thought, or the memory from the day before was flashing through his mind like a scene from a movie. "The man behind her. He could not remove his eyes from her. I just thought it was because she was a beautiful woman."

"Can you describe him?" Tony asked excitedly, jumping next to Rossi and almost stepping on the toes of the translator.

"I do you better," the man replied excited as he ducked behind his counter and out of sight. He reappeared a few seconds later, ignoring the confused looks on the agents' faces, and placed on the table a spike impaling several sheets of yellow paper. "He paid with a credit card." Quickly, he sifted through the receipts and handed Rossi the correct one.

Rossi and the translator thanked him graciously as Tony grinned and read the name on the receipt. "No doubt Abby, Garcia and McGee will beat their old record and get us a place of residence in less than eight seconds flat," the spunky NCIS agent put in.

**oOo**

The serenity of the balcony setting outside resembled the calm before the storm, but Ziva knew that was not the case. If there was any situation to be compared to a storm, it would be what was going on inside the conference room, or had gone on, between Aaron Hotchner and Ambassador Elizabeth Prentiss. The heated discussion between, or rather the head-butting of, two stubborn personalities clashing over media arrangements with poor JJ caught in the middle was not an experience that Ziva wished to live through. She retired to the outdoor escape as soon as it was humanly and physically possible. If she could travel at the speed of light, she would have.

But the pleasant and peaceful surroundings could not possibly stay that tranquil forever on the grounds of the US embassy in Pakistan, and when she was finally interrupted ten minutes later, Ziva did not bother to shrink away. The person doing the interrupting, however, was not who the Mossad officer expected or wanted.

"May I have a word, Officer David? Or may I simply call you Ziva?"

"You may."

Ambassador Prentiss took a seat on the intricately designed stone bench while Ziva remained standing, leaning up against the stone railing that bordered the balcony.

"Yes, well, after all, you and my daughter are such good friends. I imagine that you share many things."

Ziva had dealt with politicians before and with interrogators before. The trick was to reveal as little as possible in as short a conversation as possible.

"I imagine so," came Ziva's monotonous voice.

"Things that a daughter normally would not share with her mother, yes? Perhaps things that she would not share with anybody else on the planet?"

Ziva did not answer this time. She left her expression unreadable and waited for the Ambassador to reveal more about her agenda.

"So if anything major was going on in my daughter's life, I would expect that you would be the one to talk to about it," Ambassador Prentiss proclaimed, highly suggestively.

"She has been kidnapped," Ziva replied blandly. "I would say that that is pretty major, wouldn't you, Ambassador?"

"And before that happened?"

"I do not know. I have not seen Emily since I left for my vacation."

"Have you spoken to her?"

"A few times, ma'am," Ziva answered slowly. She could not mask the suspicion in her voice and, knowing the direction in which the conversation was about to go in, she lay the foundations for her pre-emptive strike. "And when you ask me what we spoke about, my answer will not deviate from this—I do not see how it is any of your business, Ambassador Prentiss." And as an afterthought, she added, "Respectfully."

Without any further exchange of words, Ziva pushed off the support behind her and made her way back to the sliding door entrance.

"Is my daughter pregnant, Ziva?"

She stopped in her tracks. She did not, however, turn around to face or otherwise acknowledge the direction from which inquisition had originated. She simply walked back inside, leaving behind a word to answer the question.

"No."

---

"_I could do almost anything to you."_


	6. Chapter 6

So this chapter is still in the process of setting the scene for the story. There's a nice Tiva scene at the beginning of this in honour of the recent episode of NCIS, Reunion. Can't wait for CM tomorrow! And it looks like editing is having some glitches again. The end quote should be centralised.

* * *

**Chapter Six**

"_Good instincts usually tell you what to do long before your head has figured it out."  
–Michael Burke._

_---_

If Tony knew anything about Ziva, it was that she sought out quiet places to think, often off the beaten path. He knew that, ironically enough, she would more than likely be in the last place anybody looked. And so that was exactly where he started.

"Ziva?" he asked into thin air as he pushed through a thick coupling of branches on the property's Deodar tree.

"I am here, Tony," a voice whispered hoarsely from the other side of the large trunk.

He wrapped around it and immediately found his wife of just two weeks seated on the ground, her head resting softly against the ragged, deep brown bark. Without saying anything, or even looking at her for any length of time, he glided swiftly over the fallen foliage and sat beside her.

"Nice place," he muttered indirectly. "You can see the embassy and all of the residential housing from here."

"I know."

"Is that why you picked it?"

"I picked it, Tony, because it _was_ quiet here," she retorted shortly, her voice gaining irritation with each syllable.

"I came to check up on you," he said sheepishly.

"Why?"

Scoffing, he turned and faced her. "I don't know, Ziva. Maybe because I love you."

She turned away from him, abashed. "I am sorry, Tony. None of this is your fault and I should not be treating you like this."

"Apology accepted," he said with a small smile, one that quickly faded. "Are you okay? You seem unwell. And I know when you're not well because you never get sick."

"My best friend is missing, Tony, and I haven't eaten in two days. How would you feel?"

He sighed lightly. "Then maybe you should eat something. You won't find Emily if you've starved to death."

"I can't," she strained out in a broken voice.

Tony moved speedily and shifted his arm around her shoulders, leaving his other hand free to grasp one of hers. "What is it, Ziva? What aren't you telling me?"

She shrugged him off and looked away. "It is not important. I do not want to bury you with this burden, Tony."

"You mean you don't want me to bear this burden, right?" he joked suavely, knowing full well that if Ziva didn't want him to know something, then he was not going to find out.

She looked over at him and smiled, an expression which he gladly returned, before he changed it to reflect the seriousness of the point he was about to propose. "I thought that we agreed that we would stop lying to each other."

"I'm not lying to you, Tony."

"But you're not telling me the truth either."

Her gaze became more intense as she chewed on the inside of her bottom lip. Slowly, she brought both her hands up to cup his cheeks and pulled him towards her, not once breaking the passionate lock of their eyes. "This does not involve us and it is not my secret to tell." Just as slowly, she let him go back to where he was originally seated.

"You would tell me if it did?" he asked, looking over at her sweetly.

She hesitated slightly before answering, which he noted but did not question. "Yes. I would."

Smiling, he got to his feet and pulled her up with him, catching her in a tight embrace before she lost her footing on the tree's exposed roots. As he stood there with his arms around her tightly, underneath the heavens and the lights, he felt almost felt at peace, but he couldn't ignore the nagging feeling that rose up from the pit of his stomach after the direction their conversation had taken. Lowering his head enough to gaze into her eyes, he whispered, "I hope you know what you're doing, Ziva, because I don't want to lose you. For any reason."

He lowered his lips to hers and brushed ever so tenderly and lovingly before pulling back. It was such a light kiss, like one they would have worked into their routine after fifty years of marriage, but it held so much emotion that it set alight Ziva's heart and her guilty conscience. She had not told Tony everything and she couldn't. Finding Emily now was her top priority.

**oOo**

"I've got it," Abby shouted over the top of the collection of loud voices in the conference room, stressing each syllable individually.

"Got what, Abs?" Gibbs asked boomingly as he came up behind her, resting the palm of his right hand on her chair.

"Credit card receipt," she replied happily as she pulled up a mug shot of a man on the plasma. "Ali Mahmood Ghazali, twenty-eight. Lives in Lahore. I can get his address."

"Get it," Gibbs ordered.

"Ties to terrorist groups?" Hotch asked.

"Nothing listed," Abby replied. "This is from his driver's licence. He has no record, not even a parking fine. No passport so I'm guessing he's never been out of the country."

"So what do we do now?" Gibbs shot in Hotch's direction. "Did you speak to the FIA?"

"FIA?" McGee ejected.

"Federal Investigation Agency," Reid answered. "Pakistani Federal Police."

"I have a call to make," Hotch announced before leaving the room. Nobody questioned where he was going... aloud.

"Where is he going?" Abby asked finally.

And it was not Gibbs' tired and irate voice that answered, but McGee's. "To make a phone call. Didn't you hear?"

"Of cour-" Abby began, before Rossi cut across her.

"Did you get anything from Interpol? The CIA? Anyone?"

"No chatter to indicate an increase in terrorist activities in this area but you know how it is," Kalev explained. "This area..." He let his voice trail off. There was no explanation needed.

It was another few minutes before Hotch re-entered the room, appearing less dishevelled than when he left.

"Everything go okay?" Rossi asked pleasantly.

Hotch nodded and turned to face everyone. "FIA has plans to raid Ghazali's home within an hour. Our presence is requested."

Rossi looked mildly surprised. "We're going to Lahore? How did you sweet talk that deal?"

Hotch ignored him.

"Morgan, Ziva, Kalev and DiNozzo, you're with us," Gibbs ordered, nodding to Hotch and Rossi, before turning to Abby, McGee and Garcia, who were seated on the other side of the room by the network of computers. "Find out who his friends are."

Grabbing their flak jackets and weapons on the way out, the three FBI agents, two NCIS agents and two Mossad officers filed out of the room silently.

---

"_Something happened that I never understood."_


	7. Chapter 7

Sorry, I forgot to update this last night. Please review if you're reading this and let me know your thoughts. I'm hoping that it's an interesting enough case to make an interesting enough storyline.

Disclaimer: See Chapter One.

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

"_If it's natural to kill, why do men have to go into training to learn how?"  
–Joan Baez._

_---_

The buzzing of phones and the tapping of computer keys had become the signature sound of the conference room where the BAU and NCIS teams had set up shop for the duration of the kidnapping case. And after ten hours of putting up with it, Dr. Spencer Reid really felt like there was a lot more to be gained from some fresh air and a fresh piece of scenery. As he got up to leave, an excited yelp of success stopped him in his tracks.

"Booyah!"

Perhaps this was the small ray of sunshine on the edge of the horizon that they'd been waiting for.

"Garcia? Booyah?"

"Good information deserves celebration, Reid," Garcia proclaimed. "Now, if you don't want to hear about the information this brilliant mind just found..."

"What did you find?" Abby asked from McGee's other side.

"Tracked a number of landline phone calls registered to Ghazali's father who lives in a town known as Sheikhupura, to the east of Lahore, to a mullah from a Wahabbi mosque in the Kashmir province," Garcia announced.

"How many calls?" Reid asked.

"Somewhere north of two dozen at the moment," Garcia responded promptly.

"North?"

"What do you want me to say, genius? These records are all over the place."

"Alright, I'll let Hotch know," Reid told them.

Meanwhile, in Lahore, Pakistan, Hotch and the others were awaiting FIA approval to enter the Ghazali house. They arrived a little after the federal police had raided the place and forensic teams had long since arrived to search it. Hotch had made an acquaintance of one of the agency's leaders at the forefront of its counterterrorism program, Zaki Miandad—that young man was making his way over to the two black, embassy-issue sedans.

"Agent Miandad, do you have something for us?" Hotch asked quickly.

"Nothing in the way of evidence, Agent Hotchner, but I believe that you want to see the inside of the house."

"Thank you," Hotch said graciously. He nodded to the others to follow him into the house. Tony, Ziva, Kalev and Rossi took the kitchen and dining room, while Hotch, Morgan and Gibbs walked into the living room.

"This doesn't look like much," Gibbs commented.

"If this is really the hideout of a hardcore terrorist outfit, then where're the prayer rugs?" Morgan added, looking around the room closely. "Qur'ans?"

"It isn't homely," Hotch put in. "I don't think that Ghazali spent much time here."

"And aside from its lack of personal touch, it's a fairly modernised style of living," Morgan stated as he shifted the seat cushions on the settee. "Contrasts greatly to the image he presents to his conservative neighbourhood outside. When you look at his house, nothing looks any different from the outside. It looks exactly the same as every single other house in the street. But inside..."

"It has all the earmarks of a man who is settling into the border between East and West, modernity and traditionalism," Rossi spoke up, entering the room with the others trailing behind him. "It has the same feel in the other rooms. Not the type of man that would be taken under the wing of a radical terrorist cell."

"Reid says that Garcia traced a phone call from Ghazali's father's home to a man from a mosque in the Kashmir province," Hotch told them.

"Known ties to terrorist groups?" Kalev asked.

"Yes, but it doesn't directly link Ghazali with this man," Hotch iterated.

"I think that I can help you there," Zaki announced, walking into the room loudly. "According to Ali Ghazali's next door neighbour, he has been staying with his father for the past three weeks. His mother is very unwell."

"Is he there now?" Hotch asked.

Zaki nodded. "I already have sent men over to pick him up. They will take him to our headquarters in Islamabad, where I will allow your men to sit in on his interrogation."

"Thank you," Rossi said with a warm smile.

"Do not thank me yet," Zaki warned severely. "ISI may still take this case away from the FIA and then you will have to deal with them. I can tell you right now, they are not so warm to foreign intelligence agencies."

"Did our technical analyst forward the files she collated from the phone records?" Hotch asked.

"She did and I have men searching for Muhammad Abdul Malik as we speak, but he has been missing for three days," Zaki explained. "Nobody from his mosque or village has seen him, but they are questioning other members of the mosque."

"Can you get us Malik's phone records?"

"I've already had them sent to your analysts at your embassy, Agent Hotchner."

**oOo**

_Quantico, Virginia_

The probationary agent had only been out of the academy for three months when he received the video. It was left outside his department's doors and addressed only to "The FBI" so he rushed it to his superior. The senior special agent then moved it his superior, a supervisory special agent, who passed it on to the SSAIC of their division of the Critical Incident Response Group. By the time it had reached the appropriate authority, thirty minutes had passed.

The SSAIC immediately removed the DVD from the envelope and put it into his computer, bringing the video up on the screen. The four men in the room—the Probie, Senior Special Agent, Supervisory Special Agent and SSAIC—gathered around to watch the forty-two second production, shocked and disturbed by what they saw.

Finally, twenty-two seconds into the sequence, the Probie managed to stutter out what was on his mind. "Isn't that captured FBI Agent Emily Prentiss?"

"Yes, it is," the SSAIC sighed. "McGuinness, contact SSA Hotchner from the BAU. He is at the US embassy in Pakistan at the moment. And have our techs go through this video and pass it on to theirs."

"Yes, sir," the Senior Special Agent responded.

**oOo**

_US Embassy, Pakistan_

It was Abby's turn to cheer this time. Sorting through the muddle of phone records that had been sent to them by the Pakistani Ministry of Foreign Affairs, she had managed to manually cross-check the independent records of Malik and Ghazali to two more men, one from Lahore, like Ghazali, and another from a town just south of the Kashmir border.

"I've got something!" she shouted out and McGee almost let out a groan. They were running a points system with him on zero, Garcia on one and now Abby on two. "Don't look so sour McGee," she warned. "I've found the names of two men that appeared a number of times on the records of both Ghazali and Malik in the last four days."

"That's good work, Abs," Gibbs commended. "Names and addresses?"

"Bringing them up right now," she replied. "But you know what I don't get? Why would these guys would bother going to a mosque two hours away when there are plenty in their hometown?"

"Maybe they weren't going to the mosque?" Tony suggested.

"So why are they calling the mosque's local mullah?" Ziva asked, countering Tony's suggestion.

"They live an hour apart," Gibbs commented. "Find out how they know each other, Abby."

"I think I know," Abby spoke in a hushed tone. She brought up the names and driver's license photos of the two men. "Hamid Waseer and Fahan Tariq Waseer."

"Brothers?" McGee asked.

"Cousins?" Tony put in.

"Find out," Gibbs told Abby before leaving the room.

---

"_I could do almost anything to you."_


	8. Chapter 8

I'm sorry about the long times between updates. First I had all this school work, then I went away, but I'm finally ready to post again. Please review if you are reading this. I can definitely see that this story is not doing nearly as well as the others had.

Disclaimer: See Chapter One.

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

"_You cannot shake hands with a clenched fist."  
–Attributed to both Golda Meir and Indira Ghandi._

_---_

Gibbs jogged down the cascading stairs, through the embassy's prestigious atrium and out the oak double doors into the driveway, where Hotch was leaning against one of their black cars, speaking quickly to someone on his cell phone. He saw the other team's leader coming in his direction, speedily wrapped up the conversation and hung up.

"You get anything?" Gibbs asked quickly.

"Miandad's men arrested the Waseer boys in Lahore. They're cousins," Hotch explained.

"Explains how they knew each other."

"But not how they got involved in this."

Gibbs shrugged nonchalantly and headed over to where Hotch was standing. He stood beside him and leant against the car's front passenger side door. "They're Jihadis," he suggested plainly.

"We don't know that."

"Is Miandad bringing them back to Islamabad for interrogation?" Gibbs asked.

"Yes. And Ghazali is sitting in interrogation room at FIA headquarters right now," Hotch told him. "Miandad's waiting for us."

"Us to interrogate? How did you manage that?"

"It's not important. I want you to lead the interrogation with Rossi."

"Okay. Why?"

"Can't say. I don't want to prejudice you during the interrogation."

Gibbs looked at him suspiciously. "Fine. Do you wanna tell me what else is going on?"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't try it with me, Agent Hotchner."

Hotch was silent for a few moments, unintentionally fidgeting with his hands. "Doesn't this seem just a little too easy?"

"You're calling this easy?"

"A credit card slip, cousins? It's almost as though these men want to be caught."

"Or somebody does," Gibbs suggested. "But we won't know anything until we speak to Ghazali. So what're waiting for? Rossi's already over there." He held his hand out to Hotch. "Keys."

"I'm driving," Hotch told him firmly.

Gibbs stared back and didn't move until Hotch relented and tossed him the keys as he opened the passenger door.

"Real mature," Hotch muttered to him as he sat down. Moments later, Gibbs was speeding down the main road of the diplomatic district towards the main part of the city of Islamabad. They arrived within ten minutes and Gibbs left the car parked crookedly on the side of the road not far from the entrance. While Hotch was pretty sure he'd parked illegally, his anxiety was outweighing his legal compass. Kalev and Rossi met them in the lobby.

"Ziva and Tony went back to the grocery store with the translator and photos of the three men we have in custody," Kalev told them immediately. "Z said that she'd call me back in twenty minutes."

"Good," Hotch replied, and turned to Rossi. "You'll be in the room with Gibbs. Kalev, you and I will watching."

"Why? I'm a skilled interrogator," Kalev argued.

"But not what Ghazali is expecting. Trust me on this."

The young Mossad officer had little choice but to give in. He shrugged and followed the older men into the elevator and down to the interrogation rooms. Ghazali was waiting, bound in handcuffs and leg irons, in the third room. It was by far the smallest; much smaller than any room that the NCIS agent or FBI agent had seen before.

Gibbs waited about a minute before entering, and Rossi followed not far behind him. He immediately sat down across from the young Pakistani man but stayed silent. Rossi leant up against the wall in the small space between it and the desk.

"What do you do for work, Ali?" Gibbs asked. "You don't mind if I call you Ali, do you?"

"I prefer Mahmood," Ghazali said honestly.

Gibbs nodded. "Right, Mahmood. I get that. My name is Leroy Jethro Gibbs, but I much prefer Jethro."

"Where are you from, Mr Gibbs?"

"Washington. NCIS. American Naval Criminal Investigative Service. And my friend here, Agent Rossi, is from the FBI."

If Ghazali was intimidated or frightened by the revelations, he didn't show it. "I don't understand why I'm here."

"What do you do for work?" Gibbs asked again.

"I'm an accountant," he answered simply.

Gibbs just nodded. "You work in Islamabad?"

"Sometimes. I mostly just work in Lahore."

"What about yesterday morning?"

"Yesterday morning?"

"You were at a convenience store near the Diplomatic Enclave," Gibbs told him.

"No I wasn't," Ghazali replied very quickly.

Gibbs almost scoffed at his lie and noticed that the man's hands had started to sweat profusely. But he waited to call the man on his bluff. "Okay, Mahmood. But your credit card was used at that store yesterday morning."

"I lost it," he lied.

"Okay. Well, if that's the case we can sort it out soon enough. I have agents at the store right now showing your photo to the owner. He remembers the man who paid for those items and will tell us that it's not you." He watched Ghazali shift uncomfortably. "Unless that's not the case. Anything you want to tell me, Mahmood?"

This seemed about the right time for Rossi to shine. He stepped forward, gripping Ghazali's shoulder with one hand and slamming the other on the desk in front of him. "I think you're lying to us, Mr Ghazali."

Gibbs signalled to his partner to let him go and step back. "What happened?"

"Alright, I did go there," Ghazali admitted. "I didn't want to tell you because I was supposed to be at work yesterday and not in Islamabad."

"What did you buy?" Gibbs asked.

"What?"

"He asked you what you bought, Ghazali," Rossi spat out in his direction.

"Some groceries," Ghazali answered innocently.

"Right," Gibbs said and pulled out a piece of yellow paper from the small file in front of him. It was the credit card receipt they'd gotten from the store earlier that day. "You bought two cartons of milk of different brands, a packet of chips, Vaseline, a coathanger, carrots and a pair of jumper leads." He paused and looked up at Ghazali. "It sounds like you just picked up whatever items you saw first so that you wouldn't look out of place. Why were you really there?"

Ghazali remained silent.

"I think I left out the box of tampons," Gibbs continued with a smile and Rossi added, "I think you did."

Gibbs' smile was impossible to evade, as much as Ghazali tried to. "Do you have a girlfriend, Mahmood?" the NCIS team leader posed with the same grin.

"Maybe you were following somebody around?" Rossi suggested, changing their line of interrogation quickly away from Gibbs' leading question.

"Okay. I was to follow that American woman, the one that's missing, and signal my cousins when she came out."

"Tell me what happened," Gibbs ordered.

Ghazali hesitated for a moment, but then let the truth spill out. "My mother's very sick. This man approached us—my cousins and me—at our mosque in Lahore. He told us to kidnap that woman and bring her to him. He paid for all of my mother's treatments."

"Where is she?"

"I don't know."

Rossi stepped forward and kicked Ghazali's chair out from beneath him. He roughly picked him back up again and sat him back down. "Where is she?" he roared in the man's face.

"I don't know," Ghazali repeated with more urgency.

"Back off, Dave," Gibbs told him. "He really doesn't know."

"I don't. I swear to Allah, I don't know where she is," Ghazali told him earnestly.

"Where did you take her then?"

"My cousins did. I did not go in the taxi with them. They had to drop her off somewhere."

"Where?"

"The man called Fahan while he was driving to tell him where."

"Fahan Tariq Waseer?" Gibbs asked.

"Yes."

"And Hamid Waseer?"

"Yes, they are my cousins."

"Do you know Muhammad Abdul Malik?" Gibbs asked.

"No."

"Your father's phone records say that you do. And I know that you've been living there for the past three weeks."

"I never knew his name, but he set up the kidnapping with us."

"How did you know that she would be at the grocery store? Or did you just grab any American?"

"No, we had to take her specifically. The FBI agent who was also the daughter of the American Ambassador. He gave us a photo and told us to follow her from the embassy. We waited outside and followed the taxi she was in."

"How did you know that she was leaving the embassy?"

"He called Fahan and told him that she was leaving alone and that we were to grab her. We decided to wait until she left the grocery store because she would need to hail another taxi to get back to the embassy. We were in Fahan's taxi so I waved to them when I followed her out of the store and they picked her up. Then I caught a bus to Rawalpindi and then a train to Lahore."

"Who called Fahan and told him that she was leaving the embassy?" Gibbs asked.

"I don't know."

"Do you know why the man wanted to kidnap her specifically?"

"No. Maybe because she was the daughter of the American Ambassador, but I don't really know."

"Okay. I'm going to send a sketch artist in and you're going to tell him exactly what the man looks like."

"Do I get some sort of deal if I do?" Ghazali questioned as Gibbs stood up to leave.

"I can't promise you anything," Gibbs returned.

Not a moment later, the door opened. "I can," Zaki said as he came inside. "If you detail this man's features to the artist so that we know what he looks like, I will ask the Attorney General to remove terrorism from the list of charges."

They didn't wait for a response and quickly left the room, Gibbs leading with Zaki bringing up the rear.

"Owner of the store confirms Ghazali as the man who followed Emily out of the store, and the fruit vendor confirms Fahan as the driver and Hamid as the man who got into the cab after Emily," Hotch told them as they exited.

"What do you think?" Gibbs asked Hotch as soon as the door to the interrogation room was closed.

"I think we're ready to give a profile."

---

"_You can't leave."_


	9. Chapter 9

So I'm updatign a little earlier than usual because I felt bad about how long it took me to update last time. Please review. Reviews= more writing= faster updates!

Disclaimer: See Chapter One.

* * *

**Chapter Nine**

"_To keep your secret is wisdom; but to expect others to keep it is folly."  
–Samuel Johnson._

_---_

Hotch decided to give the profile to the DSS/FBI agents from the embassy and the Pakistani FIA agents together at the FIA headquarters in Islamabad. At first, Morgan, Tony and Ziva, who'd just arrived with JJ and Reid, objected, but Hotch asked that they be patient and he would soon reveal why he'd made that choice.

They gathered in a briefing room with a restricted number of members from each force. Rossi began the profile.

"The leader of the cell or sect responsible is a man in his late forties to early sixties. He is very intelligent and well connected, both within the community and in the wider regions. We cannot as yet determine the exact motive for the crime but we do not believe it to be directly terrorist related."

"Not terrorist related?" one of the FIA agents questioned.

"This has been set up to be perceived as a terrorist kidnap to distract us," Hotch explained. "But terrorism is not their goal."

Kalev decided to add in some vital information that he had learnt from Gibbs' and Rossi's interrogation of Ghazali. "The men that initially did the kidnapping were hired guns, paid specifically for the capture of Emily. It was set up so that the police would be led to them and no further. They would take the fall for this."

"And it was organised so that Ghazali and his cousins would take her when she was travelling alone," Rossi put in. "Which means that somebody had to tell them that. Somebody with the means and opportunity to find out that information."

"Somebody from the embassy?" Tony asked.

"Yes, which is why we brought you all here and not to the embassy," Hotch told them. "This was not a random attack. Emily Prentiss was specifically chosen to be the victim of this crime. It was personal."

Reid followed in his usual style, explaining their profile with a known occurrence. "In the case of Daniel Pearl, the American journalist who was kidnapped in Karachi in 2002, videotapes sent to his office at The Wall Street Journal outline a range of demands from the freeing of prisoners held at Guantanamo Bay to the release of a shipment of F-16 jets held by the US to the Pakistani government."

"A case which I'm sure everyone here is familiar with," Morgan began. "Now you've all seen the video that was sent to the FBI office in Quantico. There were no demands made, no requests for a ransom to be paid. It was sent because the UNSUB wants to traumatise us, let us know that he is in control of her life and what happens to her."

"UNSUB?" another FIA asked.

"Unknown subject," Morgan answered.

"Although the video depicts Emily in a stress position, he is not feeling gratuitous about the torture," Reid explained. "His own personal pleasure is not why she's being held in that position. He was not seen anywhere in the video and there's a very good chance that he wasn't present. He probably ordered somebody else to shoot it and send it to us."

"Which tell us that he suffers from what we call narcissistic personality disorder," Rossi continued. "He is extraverted in every aspect of his character—the way he speaks, walks, writes and expresses himself. He is not empathetic but he does not get off on seeing her like this."

"Sadists prefer to film themselves torturing the victim so that can relive it later," Morgan stated. He indicated to Tony to bring up a number of images on the screen. They depicted Emily in a dark room with very little light, bound by her ankles and wrists with those tied to each other, so she was forced to lean forward over her knees. "This was a common interrogation method used by the CIA in places like Guantanamo Bay and Abu Ghraib. Stress positions were part of their approved enhanced interrogation techniques."

"We've ruled out terrorism and extortion as possible motives," Hotch told them.

"What does that leave us with?" Zaki asked pertinently.

"Revenge," he replied.

"And that is where this gets hazy," Morgan continued. "We don't know enough yet to determine who the exact target of this was. There is a chance that it is the American government and Ambassador Prentiss is the government's representative here. Short of capturing the Ambassador herself, a family member is the best target. However, it is more likely that this is more personal than that."

"This profile is incomplete until we learn exactly what the motive is," Hotch announced to all of them.

"How will we do that?" The question did not come from somebody outside of their circle this time, but inside. Gibbs was looking directly at Hotch when he asked it.

"We wait," Hotch answered simply.

"For...?" Tony questioned with some scepticism.

"For him to contact us again," Rossi returned. He looked up at the photos of Emily involuntarily and then back at Hotch. "And he will."

**oOo**

Hotch got back to the embassy last after the briefing at the FIA headquarters. It was well after midnight, in fact, when he finally arrived. He'd sent the others back an hour beforehand and told them to get some sleep, and most of them had complied. Ziva, however, asked to remain behind to help him finish up. He sensed that she wanted to talk to him about something alone, but didn't get the chance until they actually got back to the embassy and Zaki, who had driven them, walked away to answer his phone, leaving Hotch and Ziva alone in the driveway.

"What is it?" Hotch asked as soon as Zaki had walked off.

Ziva, who was making her way up the stairs, stopped and sat down on them instead. Hotch glided over the paved driveway and sat beside her.

"I know that something is up," he said again. "And if you want to tell me about it before Miandad gets back, then here's your chance. Start talking."

"It's about Emily," she told him.

"I gathered."

"She's pregnant," Ziva whispered softly. Her voice broke when she finally voiced the secret that she'd been keeping to herself for almost two days.

Hotch looked at her, trying hard to mask his shock and then looked back down at the ground. "She knew about it?"

"She found out yesterday before she left for the store. She told me when she called me just before she was kidnapped."

"So Kalev doesn't know?"

"No." Her reply was hoarse and broken.

"He's your brother. You should tell him."

"It was Emily's news to tell. She was going to do it today when they got back to Washington. You know as well as I do that she's wanted this child for so long, Aaron."

"Is that why you wanted to tell me? You thought that I will work harder if I knew?" Hotch's voice soured somewhat and even he couldn't fathom why.

"I know that you are working as hard as you can on this," Ziva told him, using what little strength she had left in her voice.

"But you think we could be doing more," Hotch realised.

"No," she told him quickly. "I wouldn't even know where to begin to look for her. You do. You understand her and you understand whoever took her better than I ever could."

"Do you trust me to find her?"

Ziva looked away from him, and at the same patch of driveway that he was staring at. "I trust that you will do everything to find her. But I know the figures. I know that most kidnapping victims are not found alive. I just wanted somebody else to know what she's going through right now."

"I do know," Hotch replied. He was about to continue when he heard heavy footsteps coming his way. It was Zaki.

"I have some bad news, Agent Hotchner," he announced as he walked over to them. "It seems that ISI have been told that we have Ghazali and the Waseers in custody."

"What happened?" Hotch pressed urgently.

"They took our prisoners, sir. ISI intercepted the car that was bringing Fahan and Hamid Waseer to Islamabad and my agents had no choice but to hand them over. They have taken Ghazali as well."

"Where?"

"I don't know," Zaki replied dejectedly. "I will make some more calls."

"Fahan Waseer can tell us who's in charge of this and where they took Emily," Ziva cried exasperatedly.

"I know and I told this to ISI."

"What did they say?" Hotch asked.

"That they would find out and let me know, but they are more interested in the terrorist angle," Zaki explained.

"Did you tell them they we didn't believe terrorism to be the primary motivator in this?" Hotch asked, his voice displaying his increased level of frustration.

"Yes, but... uh..."

"They don't trust Americans," Ziva said, finishing his sentence off for him.

"Alright, we'll deal with this in the morning," Hotch decided. "Nothing more can be done tonight. I just really want to know who told ISI that we had Ghazali and the Waseers."

"I did," came a voice from the entrance doors of the embassy behind them. Hotch turned around quickly to see DSS Special Agent Mark Sinclair walking towards him.

"You told ISI?" Hotch questioned.

"Yes."

"May I speak to you inside, please, Agent Sinclair?"

Sinclair shrugged. He followed Hotch into the embassy, leaving Ziva and Zaki outside, and into a dark, empty conference room. Hotch switched on the light and closed the door.

"Listen to me very closely. We are a team. We are all working together on this and every time one person goes off on their own and does something, it affects the ability of this team to work efficiently and cohesively. One of my agents is out there now and you've just hindered our investigation and if something happens to her because we didn't get the information that we needed when we needed it, I'm holding you personally responsible!"

"Are you done?" Sinclair asked, unperturbed. "I am responsible for ensuring that we remain within the boundaries of our jurisdiction here. I told you when you got here that DSS takes the lead on any investigation into terrorism on foreign soil."

"We are not dealing with terrorists," Hotch told him in a dangerous tone.

"I find that hard to believe," Sinclair commented. "And don't try and go over my head on this. Ambassador Prentiss has been informed of ISI's involvement in the investigation and has approved it. We have protocols to follow here, Agent Hotchner, and if you refuse to follow them you will find yourself on the next flight back to Washington."

---

"_You can't leave."_


	10. Chapter 10

Thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter. And thanks for reading everyone. The plot really starts to the thicken in this chapter, and yes, I've unintentionally started leaning towards a pairing that I hadn't quite intended to. Please review and let me know what you think anyway.

Disclaimer: See Chapter One.

* * *

**Chapter Ten**

"_I hold it the inalienable right of anybody to go to hell his own way."  
–Robert Frost._

_---_

They met for a breakfast and briefing rolled into one at seven o'clock the following morning. It was a relatively silent affair before Hotch informed them of ISI's sudden involvement in the case. The entire room burst into an intense bee buzzing and hyena-like screaming and every single person turned to the one next to them to discuss the development. After a few minutes of trying shush them, Hotch gave up and pulled Kalev aside.

"You have contacts in ISI?"

"Of course," Kalev responded.

"Go. Now," Hotch ordered him in a hushed tone. "And don't let yourself be seen by Sinclair. See if you can get any information from them."

"We need them back in our custody, Hotch," the younger man told him firmly.

"I know that. This is a stopgap. You get us what you can so that we don't reach a roadblock in our investigation and I will do what I can in the meantime to get Ghazali and the Waseers back into our custody. Or at least Miandad's."

Kalev nodded and slipped out of the room silently. Hotch looked around. He was amazed that in a room with several FBI, DSS and NCIS agents, nobody noticed Kalev leave. He stood in the centre of the room, silent and hawkish, until the gabble of chatter eventually died down and he had their attention. "Even without Ghazali, Fahan or Hamid Waseer we still have a lot of work to do. Garcia and Abby, get on that video. Sounds, flashes of light, anything that can tell you where they might be. McGee, you have Malik's phone records by now?"

"Yes, sir," McGee replied promptly and turned his desk.

"Morgan and DiNozzo, you're going to the mosque in Muzaffarabad in the Kashmir province. Find Malik or anything about him. Reid, Ziva, work on a geographic profile. If they are working as a cell out of a hideout, it should be central to the mosque to embassy, as well as Lahore. JJ, Ambassador Prentiss is going on the news at ten. Make sure she's ready."

JJ nodded and headed out.

"And us three?" Gibbs asked as close to pleasantly as the former Marine got.

"Politics," Hotch replied as the others noisily took off in the directions he'd ordered them in. "But first I need to speak to the Ambassador." And so, leaving Gibbs and Rossi unassigned in the conference room, Hotch headed up the stairs and down the hallway to the large office at the end, alone.

He knocked twice before speaking. "Ambassador?"

"Come in, Agent Hotchner," Ambassador Prentiss called from her desk.

He entered, wearily, and took a seat in the chair in front of her without saying a word, while JJ busied herself with the mass of reporters gathering outside.

"This mustn't feel that different," she commented. "I still remember when you ran security clearances for me. Do you miss your involvement in the State Department?"

"To be honest, no, ma'am," Hotch answered dutifully.

"No, I guess it doesn't stand up to a career in the FBI," Ambassador Prentiss concluded sorrowfully. "I have been doing this for too long I think. And now it may cost my daughter her life."

"I am doing everything I can to find Emily," Hotch told her firmly. And the look in his eyes showed her that he meant it.

"I believe that you are," she affirmed. "I've always wondered how my daughter ended up in such a strong relationship with a man so much younger than her, you know. I mean he's attractive and obviously in love with her, but he's thrill-seeking and adventurous, and seemingly unreliable. I would have thought my daughter would go for someone with more stability, someone older. I mean, I know that it is against Bureau regulations, but I would have thought she would've gone for someone more like you."

Hotch remained silent, unsure of what to say or do. Thankfully, the Ambassador saved him the trouble.

"But you didn't come here to discuss my daughter's love life, did you?"

"No, ma'am," he replied speedily.

"Have you got some information for me?"

"Do you know that Agent Sinclair handed our investigation over to ISI?"

"He told me that he was informing ISI, yes."

"Well, ISI has taken our only witnesses to whoever perpetrated this kidnapping."

Ambassador Prentiss looked confused. "The men you had in custody?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"And I suppose you need them back?"

"They have vital information for us," Hotch stressed briskly. "ISI will investigate them as terrorists which I do not believe they are."

"And you're sure?"

"Very sure, ma'am," he replied in the same robust tone.

"Then I will do what I can," she replied, looking downwards for the first time in their conversation. "It will not make many people in this country's government happy, but we are talking about my daughter's life. I will get those men back into your custody."

"Thank you very much, Ambassador," Hotch said as he got up to leave. He nodded slightly towards her before opening the door and leaving. He quickly made his way down to the lobby where he met with Gibbs and Rossi. Tossing the NCIS team leader the car keys first, he grabbed some files from the waiting FBI legal attaché and followed the other two out the door.

With Gibbs driving, they were at the FIA headquarters in less than ten minutes. Gibbs parked just as badly as the day before, but nobody really noticed, and they quickly made their way to the same briefing room they'd been in the night before to meet up with Zaki Miandad.

"You have something for me?" Zaki asked pleasantly, walking over to greet them.

"Files on Pakistani nationals working at the embassy," Hotch replied, holding the manila folders up at eye level. "The FBI and DSS are re-running full checks on the American staff."

"And you want me to do the same with these people?" Zaki asked rhetorically.

"Please," Hotch requested.

"Of course. And now to business. I've not yet had any luck with ISI. They will not give me anything."

"Well, I'm leaning on Ambassador Prentiss to help us out there."

"I've sent a good team with your Agents DiNozzo and Morgan," he told them. "They will be in excellent hands."

**oOo**

And so they were. The two men in the front seats of the Humvee were definitely likeable and trustworthy in both Morgan's and Tony's opinion. They had just passed the border into the Azad Kashmir province and were heading into Muzaffarabad, which was not far away. Tony took a chance to get some idea of the cultural aspects of the war-torn province, hoping to find a way to relate to the locals he would interview. Scenically, however, the land was beautiful. He could see himself bringing Ziva and Anthony on holidays there. They crossed the bridge over the Neelum River and headed into the main berth of the city.

"We're here," the driver announced. He'd introduced himself as Imran and his partner as Nasir. With Urdu as the national language in the area, Tony was certainly glad to have them along. He slid out of the vehicle and made his way around the side to meet up with the others in front of the mosque.

The imam happily invited them inside, so they removed their shoes and entered the grand and ancient place of worship.

"What can you tell us about Muhammad Abdul Malik?" Tony asked.

"May I ask what this is about?" the imam put forward.

"His name came up in an investigation," Morgan replied briskly.

"Ah, into the disappearance of that American FBI agent from the embassy in Islamabad, yes? I watch the news, too, my friends."

"Can you tell us about him?" Morgan requested.

"He is not a terrorist," the imam told him clearly.

"We never said he was," Tony replied. "In fact, we never mentioned the word terrorist. We said that his name came up in an investigation into a _kidnapping_."

"Around here they are the same thing," the imam replied. "Ask your friends over there."

"Look, we aren't here to cause trouble with your worshippers here," Morgan bargained. "We are here to speak to one man in particular about this incident, but if you like, I can call in the rest of the FIA and start talking about terrorism."

The imam stepped back and stared at him for a moment. Chewing on the inside of his lip, he made a hasty decision. "I know where he _might_ be. The house of his cousin in the city's south. He mentioned staying there sometime in the future while his cousin was in Karachi for work. I didn't know when that would be but it may be now. I will give you the address."

Tony handed him a notepad and the imam wrote the address for them in English.

"Thank you," Morgan said graciously.

"_as-salaamu alaykum,_" Tony added, speaking the common greeting in the Muslim world.

They walked back to the Humvee and Morgan handed the address over to Imran. They drove there directly from the mosque and arrived twenty minutes later. The house looked well-kept and tidy, and, even though there were no signs of life in or around it, Tony and Morgan drew their sidearms as they approached. Imran and Nasir followed suit.

"Mr Malik," Tony called out at the front door. "This is the Federal Investigation Agency."

Nasir repeated the announcement in Urdu. They waited three seconds before Morgan kicked down the door, allowing Tony to enter first. Imran and Nasir took the living room and kitchen, finding nothing, while Morgan headed into the bathroom and main bedroom. His search, too, turned up nothing and just when he thought that the entire foray had been for nothing, Tony called out to him from the second bedroom.

"Ah, Morgan?!"

The shaven FBI agent responded immediately to his friend's cry and was tailed closely by Imran and Nasir.

"I found him," he told them as soon as they entered the room. But he didn't need to say it. They could all see the decomposing corpse of the man that was once known as Muhummad Abdul Malik lying on the bed, a bullet hole between his eyes. Eyes that were still open.

---

"_I could do almost anything to you."_


	11. Chapter 11

"Where art thou loyal readers?!?!" the author questioned exasperatedly.

......

Okay, seriously. I'm dying here for some more feedback. [This doesn't apply to the two people that did review]. Please!!! REVIEW!!!! LOL. Freak-out: over.

Disclaimer: See Chapter One.

* * *

**Chapter Eleven**

"_Technology... is a queer thing. It brings you great gifts with one hand, and it stabs you in the back with the other."  
–C.P. Snow._

_---_

Hotch stood a far way away from Ambassador Prentiss as she was about to address the many international news stations that were broadcasting her message to the world. He and JJ had guided her on what to say as much as they could, but when it came down to it, she was the highest ranked diplomat in the country and it would be her words that convinced anyone to do anything, not the words that Hotch had fed to her. They weren't even aiming to speak to the kidnappers in this announcement. This was for the government.

By the end of the speech, Hotch felt that he would be sorely surprised if ISI did not return the three prisoners to FIA custody by the end of the day. Ambassador Prentiss not only presented the heartfelt commiserations of any person whose family member was a victim of kidnapping, but also pushed the boundaries of her diplomatic abilities by saying that she was deeply concerned by the lack of cooperation between the American and Pakistani authorities in this manner and that she was very disappointed by the actions of some members of the Pakistani government. It would do nothing for her career there in the long run, but it would definitely go a long way to helping them track down the UNSUB or UNSUBs responsible.

Choosing to abandon the media circus for greener pastures not long after Ambassador Prentiss' speech finished, Hotch decisively made his way back to the conference room. It was almost empty, especially for that time of day but then again, Hotch had to consider that JJ was still downstairs with the Ambassador, while Gibbs, Rossi, Reid and Ziva had driven to Muzzaffarabad in the Kashmir region to meet up with Tony and Morgan after they found the body of Muhammad Abdul Malik, and Kalev was meeting up with his colleague from the ISI. That left him with Abby, McGee and Garcia working the computers in the conference room.

"Sir," Garcia called out.

Hotch's consciousness was broken immediately. He looked up at the source of the distraction. "Yes?"

"I've got some information from our friends back home," she replied. Over her shoulder, Hotch could see a program busily sifting through something in the computer's language. It was not something he understood, but he knew that whatever it was, it was good news for them.

"They've tracked down the man that dropped off the DVD at the FBI office in Quantico," Garcia continued, "and Kevin Lynch has been analysing his computer. It seems that he is an Afghan student studying at Georgetown U and he met somebody in an online chatroom a few months ago. This is the same somebody that emailed the video and asked him to leave it at the front doors of a department in the FBI building. He's in his final year of criminology and had limited access to some FBI resources. It's how he was allowed so far into the building unaccompanied."

"Did you find out anything about the somebody he met online?" Hotch asked pertinently.

"We got an email address," Abby piped up.

"And?"

Garcia provided him with the answer. "The IP is through a server in Iran. McGee's been on the phone with them for half an hour."

Hotch looked up and over at the sweating young NCIS agent who was anxiously debating with someone on the phone in the corner of the room. "Look, this is very important. If I could just... No, please don't put me on hold ag-" He looked ready to give up.

And that was exactly what the agent in charge requested him to do. "You definitely will not get any information for them, McGee." He turned back to Abby and Garcia. "Isn't there another way?"

"We could try and hack through their system but we're talking about layer upon layer of secure firewalls to breach and after that..." Abby's voice trailed off.

"We don't know how Iranian service providers store their data," Garcia finished for her.

Hotch was about to speak up when his phone rang. He excused himself and quickly stepped out of the room. "Hotchner."

"It's Kalev. I've got something for you."

"Information?"

"A phone number."

"How?"

"I know the interrogators. They let me speak to Fahan Waseer briefly and he gave me the number of the man that called him and provided him with the information. You should be able to track the records of this number to whoever provided the UNSUB with information on Emily at the embassy."

"Good work, Kalev."

"I sent the number to your PDA. I'll be heading back to Islamabad now."

"You're not in Islamabad?"

"I can't tell you where I am, Hotch. ISI and their secrets, you know. Secrets that I'm bound to keep."

"Well, Morgan and DiNozzo found the body of Malik in his cousin's house. The ME estimates the time of death at ten days ago."

"Which is probably when this started," Kalev put forward insightfully. "Emily and I arrived here twelve days ago."

"Well, it wipes Malik off our suspect list."

"Yeah," Kalev said with a sigh. "I'll see you when I can."

"Bye," Hotch replied before hanging up. He reached into his jacket pocket and removed his PDA, reading Kalev's note off the top of his list of unread messages.

Walking back into the room once more, he stepped over the mess of paper on the floor beside Garcia and placed his PDA on her desk. "I need you to trace this number."

"How much luck do you think I'll have with the Pakistani server and no court order?" Garcia replied. The look in his eyes, however, told her that efforts to question the veracity of his position were fruitless. "I'll do what I can."

"This is the number that was used to alert Fahan Waseer to Emily leaving the embassy," Hotch told her explicitly. "Somebody inside this embassy called that number and told our UNSUB that she was leaving."

"So this number should show up on the embassy's phone records," Abby realised. "See this is why you're the senior Boss-man."

"I want to know who called the UNSUB and told him about Emily," Hotch reiterated clearly, ignoring Abby's quip.

"The information will be located and transmuted forthwith to you as soon as we have it," Garcia promised in her usual manner.

But a ruckus from the hallway disrupted her before she got any further. Loudly, the team that had spent most of the day out at the crime scene in the Kashmir province filed in.

Rossi stood at the head of the group and explained their findings to Hotch. "Single bullet to the head from a distance of at least ten feet. The guy knew what he was doing. We're definitely talking about an experienced hit here."

"There were signs of a break-in," Tony illustrated further, "and it looks like a smash and grab job, too. Or shoot and grab. Wallet's missing, so is the phone, which I assumed was used to call Ghazali."

"But not Fahan Waseer," Hotch told them. "We received the number of the man who called him on the morning of Emily's kidnapping."

"To let him know when Emily was leaving?" Ziva prompted.

"Yes," Hotch replied, nodding. "Garcia's running it against embassy records as we speak."

"But I've had no luck with the phone company," she piped up from her computer.

"We could try calling it," Kalev suggested from the doorway. "Maybe someone will answer."

"Well," Hotch contemplated, "we should try something, because Emily is running out of time."

---

"_Every second dripping off my fingertips."_


	12. Chapter 12

Okay, I know it's been a while. My apologies. I'd really like some reviews people. Please :)

Disclaimer: See Chapter One.

* * *

**Chapter Twelve**

"_While nothing is easier than to denounce the evildoer, nothing is more difficult than to understand him."  
–Fyodor Mikhaylovich Dostoyevsky._

_---_

Silence cloaked the room as SSAIC Aaron Hotchner punched the number into the embassy-provided landline in the room. There was a handset, which Hotch would use to speak to whoever answered, as well as a speakerphone for the rest to hear what was going on. All non-essential personal, meaning everyone that was not on the NCIS or BAU teams, except for Kalev, were asked to leave while they made the call.

The air was thick with tense anticipation as Hotch put in the last number and it started to ring. It rang twice before there was an answer, but not the answer that was expected. It was a pre-recorded message.

"I expected that you would eventually call this number, but do not try to trace it. It will do you no good and your time can be better spent. Yes, your Emily survives and I am not beneath compassion. I have, in good faith, given you the men who kidnapped her. But my name I will not give.

"I suspect, in fact, I know that you will learn it in good time. My only hope is that you are skilled enough to discover it before she perishes. I would hate not to have the chance to meet you before the end. But if your friends from the BAU are any good at the job they do, this message should provide them with all the information they need... I hope. A wise mentor of mine... well, existential mentor of mine once wrote that while nothing is easier than to denounce the evildoer, nothing is more difficult than to understand him.

"Do you understand me, Agents? Do you know why I do this? God speed you to find out. Alas, I have wasted too much time talking already. It's time for me to go. And it's time for you to learn a very valuable lesson. _Shalom, haver_."

There was an unbreakable silence in the room immediately succeeding the end of the message. Hotch slowly disconnected the line and looked around the room. He was as uncertain about what to suggest next as was each and every other member of the team. And it was his belief that his feelings on the matter were perhaps clouding his judgment on the case.

"Can you get us as close to the real voice as possible, Garcia?" Rossi asked in the blonde's direction. It was apparent as soon as the message started that the man was speaking through a voice changer.

"I can try," she replied, fearful of the implications of her inability to do so.

"What the _hell_ was that all about?" Morgan shot out haphazardly. He looked around at the surprised looks of everything on the room. "What? You're all thinking it."

"_Your_ Emily?" Reid said, finally speaking up. "_Your_ friends from the BAU? It doesn't sound like he's talking to us collectively. It sounds more like he's talking to one person in particular."

"Finishing off with Hebrew at the end," Gibbs put in. "One guess who he could be talking to. Looks like you were right about the motive—revenge."

"But wrong about the target," Hotch added.

"Who is the target?" McGee asked confusedly.

_My God, he's slow,_ came Tony's thoughts. Although, a lot could be said for his restraint and timing by the fact that he didn't voice the thought.

"Me," Kalev answered from the back.

"You have any idea who this is?" Hotch asked pointedly.

Kalev pushed off the desk he was leaning against and walked towards the group. "It could be any of a few dozen people. I like to think that most of them don't have the ability to track me down, but I know that's not true."

"We'll need a list," Hotch informed in.

"Of course," came the reply. The astute Mossad officer turned to his sister beside him and wordlessly beckoned for her to follow him. "We will work one out immediately," Kalev told the hawkish lead FBI agent on his way out the door.

He pulled his sister by the forearm down the hall and into an empty room, all the while looking back to make sure that they weren't being followed.

"Kalev, what is it?" Ziva questioned irritably. "There are better things we could be doing right now."

"We need to go," he told her quickly.

"Go?!" She could hardly believe what he was suggesting.

"Yes. Go. Now."

"What? Why? Where?" Her questions were starting to annoy him.

"I think I know who's behind this."

Ziva's eyes narrowed and her voice deepened to display her disappointment. "Then you need to tell Hotch. And Gibbs."

"No," he said quickly and apprehensively. Gathering himself, he slowed down enough to explain himself. "No. If I'm right then there's nothing more they can do to help us." He stepped closer to her and lowered his voice to no more than a whisper. "This is my fault. Our fault. This happened to Emily because of decisions made by our family long ago. You know we can never leave this life, Ziva."

"We have little choice, Kalev. We have families. I have a son, you have a daughter, and our families might expand one day. I don't want to have to bring children into our family's fight."

"Then we need to end it. Make a clean break. I am doing this for my family."

Ziva moved to walk out, but Kalev grabbed her arm again, stopping her. "If there must be trouble, let it be in my day, that my child may have peace."

Ziva stopped her parade out of the room, but did not turn around.

"And then," Kalev continued, "there is the quote that our father taught to us long ago. "All that is necessary for the triumph of evil..."

"Is that good men do nothing," Ziva completed with a heavy heart. She looked around at her brother, his wistful and sorrowful face.

"If I'm right about who took Emily, then we have no choice but to end this now," Kalev told her firmly. "And it's the only way to find Emily alive. We have to locate him first."

"Are you sure about this?" Ziva asked.

"I am."

---

"_I could do almost anything to you."_


	13. Chapter 13

This is another pretty short chapter, but it starts to fill in some of the blanks on Kalev's and Ziva's secret past. Thanks to those who reviewed and, as always, please review, even if it's anon. [I accepted them].

Disclaimer: See Chapter One.

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen**

"_God defend me from my friends; from my enemies I can defend myself."  
–Proverb._

_---_

They went to bed the previous night not having found a trace of Kalev or Ziva, or any shred of evidence to suggest where they'd gone. An embassy official informed them, albeit half an hour after they started looking for the brother-sister duo, that they'd taken a car and driven off. Morgan and Tony found the car abandoned in an alley off a main street in Islamabad. And just like that, they disappeared without a trace.

Hotch figured that Kalev had learnt something from the pre-recorded message that he didn't want to share with everyone else. He also knew that if Kalev and Ziva didn't want to be found, they wouldn't be. Feeling worse than helpless and unable to do anything more to help Emily without Kalev's input, Hotch sent everyone to bed. It was a little before eleven and he had phone calls to make. He knew that he wouldn't find the Davids, but he might be able to find someone who could tell him about them. If Kalev wasn't going to tell him who was responsible for Emily's abduction, then he would use all the information he had on Kalev to figure it out himself.

And so he stayed up for most of the night, and only grabbing an hour or two of sleep on the couch in the embassy's hallway. While he emerged at breakfast that morning looking the worse for wear, his colleagues turned up looking refreshed and rejuvenated, ready to tackle whatever came their way throughout the day. Hotch scoffed his breakfast down and rushed out of the room to call his son, Jack. He saw Gibbs do the same thing and assumed that the silver-haired man was calling Jenny, his... well, Hotch was unsure of how to describe their relationship. Jenny was probably a little too old to be introduced as Gibbs' girlfriend. More of a life partner without the strings of marriage attached. Jenny knew Gibbs' track record too well and she wasn't about to become Mrs Gibbs No 5 or Ex-Wife No 4.

Hotch walked back into the main dining room after ending the phone call home with an argument with his ex-wife, Haley, just as DSS Special Agent Sinclair was arriving, apparently to request his presence in Ambassador Prentiss' office. He almost sighed deeply at the question of what the Ambassador could possibly require now, but stopped himself in Sinclair's unappreciative company. With Gibbs and Rossi tailing close behind, he made his way quickly to the Ambassador's office on the other side of the building and granted himself entry, not standing on precedent and waiting for the formidable mother of one of his agents to allow him in.

He expected to see the Ambassador when he entered, which he did, sitting at her desk in the centre of the large room. But he did not expect to see the equally as formidable father of one of Gibbs' agents. Mossad Director Eli David was standing off to the side of the room, his expression complacent and his aura demanding. Without asking for permission, Rossi and Gibbs sat down, leaving Hotch standing.

"Do you know where your son and daughter are, sir?" Hotch inquired immediately, attracting peculiar glares from everyone but the man he was speaking to.

"Supervisory Special Agent In Charge Aaron Hotchner," David commented lightly, "from the FBI's Behavioural Analysis Unit. You don't waste time with formalities."

"With all due respect, sir, if you can't help me find what I need then my time is better spent elsewhere."

"Slow down for a few minutes, Agent Hotchner, and pay attention to what I have to say," advised David harshly.

Hotch immediately fell silent and waited for the glowering Mossad Director to continue.

"My children disappeared last night without a word of where they were going. They would have been in Israel between the hours of 0300 and 0500. A secure military compound north of Be'er Sheva was infiltrated at approximately 0400. They would have landed somewhere in Jordan and come in from the east, through the West Bank territory."

"And you're sure that it was Ziva and Kalev who raided the military installation of their own country?" Rossi put forward in a lucrative manner. "Surely there's an easier way to access state secrets."

"Not from this military installation," David replied sternly, "because they do not have clearance. And I know what information was accessed. I also know that whoever did infiltrate the compound knew enough about it to avoid all security personnel and cameras. The ones they couldn't avoid, they disabled. This was my son and daughter."

"What did they access?" Gibbs asked.

"Information related to the termination of an individual by the Israeli Air Force almost two years ago. Kalev was a major part of the investigation into this man and his dealings with several terrorist organisations. Until his death, he was the main provider of Western intelligence to Al Qaeda cells all over North Africa, the Middle East, and the US and its allies."

"You're talking about Alexei Stokgov," Gibbs realised quickly. Memories flashed before him as he remembered the ordeal that NCIS had gone through from the Al Qaeda recruiter, Hans Steiger, then with Anthony's kidnapping and the situation with Jenny's near-death experience and Svetlana Chernitskaya. "So he's alive."

"I didn't say that," David rebuked convincingly.

"But you didn't say he was dead," Rossi pointed out. "Is he?"

"There is no evidence to suggest that he is."

"I think your son would disagree, Director," Hotch said, feigning respect but with all the spite in his voice evident, "else he would be here with us now, trying to find Emily."

"Do you really?" The question was rhetoric and Hotch knew that. He had gotten under the Director's skin.

"Do you have any leads on where Stokgov may be?" Gibbs asked emotionlessly.

"Dead."

"I mean apart from there," Gibbs clarified with a small smirk.

"I can assure you that the Israeli pilots eliminated the vessel he was on in the Persian Gulf," David answered, invariably irritated.

"And you're sure that he was on the yacht?"

"Kalev was sure," David admitted, a little sheepishly. He knew that there was every chance that Stokgov was still alive, but men in his position never admitted their mistakes.

"How were you sure that Stokgov was on the yacht when it was destroyed by your aircraft?" Rossi asked politely.

"NSA satellite," Gibbs responded for the Director. "Kalev had the phone number and he called it as we tracked its global position to a yacht owned by him sailing in the Persian Gulf. We kept the yacht in our sights until it was destroyed a few minutes later."

"There are no cell towers at sea," Rossi commented.

"Excuse me?" David questioned confusedly.

"Well, you tracked the cell phone to the nearest tower."

"They were not far from the Saudi coastline," Gibbs answered.

"So how do you know that Stokgov was on the yacht?" Hotch questioned, finally seeing where Rossi was going with his line of interrogation. "He could've been on the shoreline and the cell phone signal would've bounced off the same tower."

"You assumed that he would be on the yacht, because it was his yacht," Rossi pointed out. "Why would he be on the shoreline?"

"You are possibly correct," David said, "but we have not picked up anything on him since that day. Where has he been since then?"

"Waiting," Hotch replied. "Waiting underground and out of sight until the perfect time to reinvent himself. And exactly for something like revenge."

"It's very possible that we've found our UNSUB," Rossi commented.

"Maybe," Hotch added, "but I want to be sure."

"You won't be able to do that without Kalev and Ziva," David told them resolutely. "Their contacts are exactly the people you need to ask if a new player has entered the game in this region."

"So you expect to wait and you give us nothing?" Hotch demanded angrily.

"Be patient, Agent Hotchner," David counselled, unperturbed, "my son and daughter will return and soon. They found what they were looking for in Israel and they will find the information you need quickly. Expect them back very soon."

---

"_Wage your war."_


	14. Chapter 14

I'm very sorry for the long time between these updates. I'm having a bit of technical trouble on my other computer, which happens to be where this story is stored, and I couldn't get access to it.

Disclaimer: See Chapter One.

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen**

"_To mortify or even to injure an opponent, reproach him with the very defect or vice... you feel... in yourself."  
–Ivan Turgenev._

_---_

Sitting across from her brother in a quaint but busy urban cafe in the centre of the Indian capital, Ziva was geared up for the investigation, even though she hadn't slept in over thirty-six hours. Just fifteen minutes after they'd left the military compound in Israel; Kalev's Air Force pilot friend had the stolen Mossad Gulftstream V jet in the air and heading towards New Delhi to meet up with Ziva's English friend.

She suspected that the information they'd taken from the IDF files had only provided Kalev with more evidence for his conclusion—Alexei Stokgov was still alive. And Ziva knew that if he was alive, then he was certainly responsible for Emily's kidnapping. Adding this information to the pre-recorded message left for Kalev, she was sure that he was the only plausible suspect.

Within in ten minutes of sitting down, a blond man in jeans and a short-sleeve shirt joined them at the table.

"Ziva, Kalev," he said warmly, "it's so good to see you again." He shook Kalev's hand and kissed Ziva's cheek.

"Good to see you too, Will," Ziva replied in a less than jovial tone. They had first met William Baker, a senior agent working for the British Secret Intelligence Service, or MI6, in London five years earlier when they were both stationed there. "But I only wish we could meet under better circumstances."

"Has something happened?" he inquired seriously as he sat down on the remaining steel chair.

"A friend of ours has been taken," Kalev explained shortly.

"Someone very important to us," Ziva added.

Baker looked from Kalev to Ziva. "The American FBI agent in Pakistan?"

Ziva responded with a small nod and Baker didn't question any further.

"We think we know who's responsible," Kalev told him.

"Then why do you need me?"

"Background—I want to know if he's active in Pakistan. Can you point us in the right direction?"

"And you just assumed that I'd know?" Baker asked coyly.

Kalev smirked like he knew something Baker didn't. "I called your office and heard you got promoted to the Head of Operational Intelligence, Central Asia. I think you have something that will be of value to us."

Baker returned the smile good-naturedly. "What sort of thing are you looking for?"

"Any uptake in activity in the past few weeks or months," Kalev answered quickly. "Something unexplained. Our guy went off the radar for a very long time. We assumed he was dead. He would have shown up recently."

"There is something, then," Baker told them.

"Go on," Ziva prompted.

"There's been an increase in firepower in Pakistan's North-West Frontier province. The Taliban have gotten their hands on some more sophisticated weapons. The FBI recently led a counter-terrorism op with local lashkars to work out a way to combat them."

"We know," Kalev responded. "Emily was a part of that counter-terrorism team."

"We have no idea how they got access to these weapons, but whoever's providing them is very good at covering his tracks," Baker continued.

"It sounds like Stokgov," Ziva said to her brother.

"Alexei Stokgov?" Baker asked quickly. He leaned in closer to them as if not to miss anything.

"Yeah," Kalev answered shortly.

"I remember chasing him all over London with you, Kalev."

"Well, I'm still chasing him."

Baker sighed heavily. "Who is this Emily to you anyway?" The question was directly aimed at Kalev.

And he responded with a heavy heart. "Everything."

There was a short pause where nobody knew what to say. Thankfully, Ziva creatively proposed a way to end the silence. She stood up, encouraging her brother to join her, and looked at Baker. "Thank you very much for your help."

"You're welcome," he replied sadly. "Good luck."

Kalev nodded and followed his sister out of the cafe. They walked for at least five minutes without saying a thing. And yet again, it was Ziva to finally break the silence.

"I need to pick up something," she told her brother in a hushed tone. "Will I meet you at the airfield?"

"Sure." Kalev shrugged. "I'll have Ephraim fire up the engine."

With a short embrace started by Ziva, they departed in opposite directions.

**oOo**

It was dark when they finally arrived back at the embassy. As they made their way down the hall, they could see that everyone was still hard at work in the conference room. Ziva could foresee the impact that their fishing expedition would have on the rest of the team, so she allowed her brother to open the door and enter first, trailing behind him like a lost child that feared condemnation for running away from her parents. The room stopped. No movement. No chatter. It just stopped. Kalev and Ziva waited for somebody else to speak before they explained themselves and what they'd found.

And, sure enough, the condemnation came.

"Where have you been?" Hotch started out with the most obvious of questions.

"Israel and then India," Ziva answered truthfully. "But the intelligence we gathered was first rate."

"Your father told us," Hotch replied simply. It seemed that no one else had anything to say while Hotch was doing such a fine job.

"If we had left and told you," Kalev began, "would you be any less against the idea?"

"We'd have come with you," Gibbs said defiantly.

"Exactly," responded Kalev clearly, "and that's not how we operate. We got this intelligence quickly and without leaving a trail. We couldn't have done that with extra baggage."

"As a team," Hotch started, "we operate together. We don't keep secrets to ourselves and run off to find information alone and without telling anybody."

"I know that," Kalev replied, "but we are running out of time and I couldn't take the chance that any of you would be caught when we crossed borders." He stared directly at Hotch and then around the room. "Does anyone here want to hear what we've learnt?"

---

"_Wage your war."_


	15. Chapter 15

My apologies for the delay. For those who haven't noticed over the past ten or so chapters, it will become very evident at the end of this chapter. I had never intended to add this storyling, but it worked its way into my story on its own. Enjoy and please review.

Disclaimer: See Chapter One.

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen**

"_Confess yourself to heaven, repent what's past, avoid what is to come, and do not spread the compost over weeds to make them ranker."  
–William Shakespeare._

_---_

The morning dew set across the lawns of the embassy's property soaked Ziva's joggers through to the inner sole. She couldn't sleep, even though she desperately needed it, and decided to exercise to clear her head. She promised the officials on her way out that she wouldn't leave the grounds and she had no intention of breaking that promise—the grounds were beautiful, especially in the warm weather they'd been having so far that winter. She stopped for a breather just under the Deodar tree that she and Tony had discovered just two nights earlier, and saw a figure approaching her.

As he got closer, she recognised the silhouette of the man drawing near and waited for him. It was not as though there was anywhere to escape to on the grounds anyway.

"_Boker tov,_" Ziva greeted her father as he came closer.

"Good morning, Ziva," he replied simply and in English.

"I heard that you were here," she told him, sitting down on an exposed root of the large tree. Her father remained standing. "Why didn't you see us last night?"

"I was busy."

"And now?"

"I return to Tel Aviv in an hour. I just spoke to your brother inside and he told me you came for a run."

"I always run," she told him matter-of-factly.

"Do you want to tell me why you didn't come to me yesterday when you suspected that Alexei Stokgov was still alive?"

"No," she merely replied with a shrug.

"This did not work with me when you were a little girl, Ziva," her father warned, "and it will not work now. Tell me."

"It is not of your concern, papa."

"Is this about your mother? You don't trust me to take care of it now because I didn't take care of it then?"

Ziva stood up immediately. "This is about Emily. Not about what happened more than twenty years ago."

"Your brother had the same answer."

"Well, he's right," Ziva spat out aggressively.

"Okay, okay," David conceded and stepped away from his daughter. "If you need anything, I want you to call me."

Ziva only nodded.

Her father glanced back at her sorrowfully. He took a few steps closer to her and placed his hands lovingly on her cheeks. Leaning in, he kissed each of them, and then whispered in her ear, _"Slih'a."_

Director David slowly let go and turned around, leaving his daughter behind under the sagging branches of the Deodar tree.

And Ziva's younger brother saw the entire exchange from the window in the Ambassador's office, to which he had been summoned.

"You were saying, Ambassador?" Kalev inquired politely.

"I have received some information from ISI," she told him, "but I do not want it known that it was I that received this information. It could stir up a whole can of worms that I cannot deal with at the moment."

"I understand," Kalev replied, "so what is the information?"

"Fahan Waseer revealed that he handed Emily over to two men dressed in Western clothing near the Kashmir border. They were driving a white panel van but he couldn't remember any other details."

"So Emily's in the Kashmir province? It'll certainly narrow our search radius down."

"But remember, Kalev," Ambassador Prentiss warned, "that this information was obtained under severe physical duress. All of it will need to be verified by secondary sources."

"Just because he was tortured, it doesn't make the evidence produced false," Kalev told her.

"But it doesn't make it true, either."

**oOo**

Ziva sat under the drooping branches of that large and expansive tree for more than an hour before anybody else approached her. It wasn't her father this time, or her brother, but three women that she knew very well and spoke to more often. They almost skipped through the grass to meet her, but Ziva suspected that that was because all three of them—JJ, Abby and Garcia—had been cooped up inside the embassy for far too long.

"Watcha doin' out here?" Abby asked as she plopped down on to the soil next to Ziva. JJ and Garcia took up seats on the soft grass just a metre away.

"Just thinking," Ziva replied, looking off into the horizon.

"About?" JJ asked pointedly.

Ziva smirked at the question. _Well, JJ, it was about what I learnt yesterday in New Delhi. _Unintentionally, she started shaking her head. _And not from my friend, Will._

"Come on, Ziva," Garcia pushed. "Tell us."

She bit her lip automatically.

"We won't say anything," Abby added. "We promise."

Ziva gave in. She was backed into a corner anyway. "Alright." She looked up at her friends. "I went to a pharmacy after Kalev and I met with our friend in New Delhi. I bought a pregnancy test."

"And what happened?" JJ asked seriously.

"Well, I got back on the jet, I went to the bathroom, peed on it, and then waited five minutes."

"And?" Abby prompted with her eyes wide.

"And it was positive," Ziva replied. There more than just a trace of disappointment in her voice. She didn't appear at all happy or excited by the news. "It's not like thosethings are one hundred percent reliable."

But Abby ignored the quip. "Yay!" she screamed as she crash-hugged Ziva to the ground.

"Congratulations, honey," Garcia cried, just as happy.

"I can't believe this," Abby started excitedly as she helped Ziva back into a sitting position. "I can't believe how many of my friends are pregnant! First Jenny and then my sister, and now you!"

"You're sister's pregnant too?" Garcia asked, almost ignorant now of the other two.

Abby nodded. "These things come in threes, you know. It's true," she shouted over the looks of disbelief, "and numbers like two or four are just unnatural. They always come in threes."

"I thought that it was bad things that come in threes," JJ put in confusedly.

"I could agree with you there," Ziva commented, scoffing.

And only JJ that seemed to pick up on Ziva's disappointed attitude. "This is a good thing," she tried to tell her Israeli friend.

"But it could not have come at a worse time," Ziva replied, still brushing leaves and dirt from her jacket.

"Why?" JJ asked demandingly.

Ziva shook her head and then looked up at them, forcibly changing her expression to feign a smile. "You know what, it's not important," she told JJ happily, patting her knee lightly. "What's important now is that we find Emily, so we should go back inside and do so."

"Aren't you going to tell your husband?" JJ asked with the same tone.

"Not right now. Right now, I'm going to find Emily."

Nobody argued. In a sense, Ziva was right. They had to find Emily first before they thought about their lives in the future. So they all stood up and followed Ziva back across the sun-baked lawn and towards the grand entrance of the embassy's building. Hotch and Rossi were talking on the stairs, but quietened when they saw the ladies approach. Sensing that they were having a similar deep and meaningful conversation, Ziva headed directly up the stairs and into the lobby, the others following her, and leaving the two men outside to continue their chat privately.

**oOo**

But it wasn't as though their chat was going anywhere. Rossi was still trying to break through Hotch's tough exterior. And it seemed to be a lot harder than usual.

"Aaron," Rossi almost pleaded. "Will you please just tell me what is tormenting you?"

Hotch was silent nonetheless.

"You know that I will keep to myself anything you tell me in confidence."

"I know that, Dave," Hotch finally replied.

"Then why won't you tell me?" Rossi asked rather demandingly.

Hotch was silent again.

"Are you worried that I will judge you on your actions when you do?"

The FBI Unit Chief looked up at him expectantly.

"I won't," Rossi promised. "It is not for me to judge you on what you have or have not done, Aaron."

"I'm just..." he paused and inhaled, "not sure how I feel."

"About?" Rossi asked, drawing out the end syllable.

Hotch sighed deeply and looked around rapidly, his eyes flicking everywhere but towards the questioning man. Rossi could see that Hotch was struggling with the weight of his conscience and the decision of whether or not to come clean, when finally, he saw the struggle end.

Hotch looked up at him, seriously and resolutely. "Emily."

"What do you mean?"

"Just that. I'm not sure how I feel about Emily."

"Okay," Rossi said understandingly.

"It's just now that with everything that's happened I remember so much... I don't know. And then there's this other thing now, too."

"What other thing?"

"I can't say," Hotch told him, before clarifying himself with, "I promised I wouldn't say."

Rossi just nodded.

"Look, we need to go back inside and work on finding her."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," Hotch replied and he stood up and turned around to head back into the embassy. He felt bad, lying to Dave Rossi, his friend and former mentor, like that, but he had so much trouble revealing the truth to himself, let alone anybody else. He was in love with Emily Prentiss.

---

"_I could do almost anything to you."_


End file.
